


Kirby High

by TyZula16



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Justice League of America (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24000754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyZula16/pseuds/TyZula16
Summary: Modern AU. DC's heroes and villains are teenagers, attending the same high school. They battle hormones instead of Darkseid. LOTS of characters and pairings.
Relationships: Arthur Curry/Mera, Barbara Gordon & Selina Kyle, Barbara Gordon/Kara Zor-El, Barry Allen/Hal Jordan, Billy Batson & Freddy Freeman, Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen, Garfield Logan & Victor Stone, Garfield Logan/Raven, Koriand'r & Raven (DCU), Michael Carter & Skeets (DCU), Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Pamela Isley & Selina Kyle & Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Shayera Hol/John Stewart
Comments: 59
Kudos: 81
Collections: High School AUs





	1. Senior Year

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my first EVER fanfic, though I’ve been an avid reader of FanFiction for the better part of a decade. I don’t own any DC comics characters, but I love them.

* * *

(Barbara’s POV)

It’s 6:45 am. Monday. Outside, warm September breezes brush against tree branches, allowing the occasional leaf to make its gradual descent to the grass below. When the winds settle, a stillness permeates the air; the energy is quiet, calm. But inside Kirby High School, there is a different sort of energy: it is loud, frenetic, and _alive_. Older students rush through the hallways, laughing and shouting, bumping into freshmen who would like nothing better than to melt into the floor. Such is life on the first day of senior year.

At 6:45 am, on her last first day of school, Barbara Gordon is sitting in homeroom, picking at her nails, trying _not_ to wonder why it’s still hard to talk to classmates she’s known for years. Years.

_If Selina were here …_

But Barbara’s best friend rarely shows up on the first days of school, or the last days of school, or most days in-between. Which would be fine, if Barbara was more … loquacious.

_And less pathetic. Ugh._

After growing sufficiently anxious, the bespectacled redhead pulls out her phone and antsily writes a text, ignoring the cacophony of laughter and joy permeating the air.

“ **You said you’d be here.** ” Barbara receives an immediate response. 

“ **I said I might. I got a reputation to keep up ;)** ”

_Selina …_

Barbara rolls her eyes and sets a mental reminder to get a new best friend later.

“ **You’re awake?!** ”

“ **Kind of** ”

“ **When will you be here?** ”

“ **Um November?** ”

_Yep. New best friend._

“ **Selina. You’re not funny. It’s our last year. We had lunch plans!** ”

“ **Dude chill I got drunk w/ Harls and Pam last night”**

Barbara grimaces at the mention of Selina’s party-animal cohorts. She started spending time with them mid-way through junior year, and their influence has somehow made Selina even less concerned with silly things like school and her future. Barbara’s phone buzzes.

“ **But fine I’ll probs be there by 3rd period** ”

 _Great. Who am I supposed to talk to now though?_

As if on cue, Barbara’s soon-to-be-ex-best friend sends another text.

“ **Go get yourself a girlfriend in the meantime! Love ya** ”

Barbara shoves her phone into her pocket without responding. She sighs and adjusts her glasses and tries to rub the creases out of her jeans. She suddenly wishes she had worn different pants or maybe a dress.

_She’s probably right. I could try talking to someone. Make a new friend, at least. We’re seniors. What’s the worst-case scenario? Yikes. Oh, yikes. Ok, don’t think about that. Never mind. Just … give it a try. Yikes._

Barbara takes a breath and slowly looks around the room, examining her peers. Circe and her volleyball-playing subordinates are sitting on desks cross-legged and chatting near the front of the classroom. One of them - a pretty brunette with feline eyes - is also named Barbara.

_Or, “the hot Barbara,” as she is no doubt known among the cool kids. Though “the 2.1 GPA Barbara” would be more accurate._

The “4.0 GPA Barbara” smirks at her joke; but guilt soon sets in, and so she pushes away vitriolic thoughts and keeps perusing the class. She glances at Kyle - a mild-mannered, skinny, artist-type - who is sitting nearby and currently in the process of vigorously drawing in his notebook.

_Don’t want to disturb him. Or potentially ruin the next Mona Lisa._

A few seats behind her own, Eddie, Oswald and Jonathan discuss their plans for the drama club. Barbara smiles slightly at the bickering trio; she considers approaching them (Barbara was the lighting designer for their production of _Twelfth Night_ a year ago), when her eyes land on two students in the back of the class.

Diana Prince and Bruce Wayne. Childhood friends and Kirby High School icons.

_Well, “icons” to me, at least. And why shouldn’t they be? They’re easily the least worst people in the school._

Diana is tall, beautiful and bold. She has a kind smile, but her eyes hint at a ferocity buried within.

 _Not too deeply buried though …_

Barbara remembers hearing once that a 15-year old Diana viciously chewed out an anti-abortion protester; the altercation apparently ended with the pro-lifer sporting a black eye and broken nose.

_Quick mental reminder: never get on her bad side._

But while Diana’s intensity and confidence may seem daunting to others, Barbara finds those traits endearing. And almost as alluring as her golden eyes and luscious, raven-colored locks. Barbara realizes that she’s been staring at her crush for a bit too long, and quickly diverts her attention to her red converses, which she decides to untie and then re-tie.

Despite common knowledge, Barbara has, on a few occasions, spoken with Diana. They were freshmen when they first met; Barbara was nervous and jittery and facing the floor while speeding towards her next class when she bumped into the Disney princess. 

_She was mesmerizing. It was as if light radiated from her soft, tan skin. Naturally, I refused to look at her. I muttered an apology before collapsing to the floor, attempting to regather my things and dignity._

_But Diana didn’t walk away in a huff. Or say something cruel. She gently picked up my notebooks and handed them to me._

_“It’s okay. Here.”_

_Our hands grazed during the exchange of books and I finally met her gaze. She smiled genuinely and I may or may not have spontaneously combusted._

_“Thanks. Sorry … again. Guess I wasn’t looking. Stupid.”_

_Her laughter was music._

_“It’s really fine! You seem so nervous, if you don’t mind me saying. I hope your first day’s been going well.”_

_And I was looking at the floor again as I blushed bright pink at her words._

_“It’s been fine. I don’t know. I’m still adjusting, I guess.”_

_“I understand. I haven’t had the easiest time, myself.”_

_I almost snorted. No way was that true. She suffered from the most severe case of ‘popular girl syndrome’ I’d ever seen._

_After a moment, Diana continued, tenderly, “If you would like, you can sit with me at lunch? I’m sure Clark and Bruce - they’re my good friends - I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”_

_Surely she was just being kind. Diana-types don’t hang out with me-types._

_I nodded and said I’d consider it, and she left with a smile and a wink. I watched her dark hair flow against her shoulders as she gracefully strolled down the hallway._

Barbara never did meet up with Diana for their lunch date. Selina wanted to sneak out to the local gas station, and Barbara, ever a follower, stuck with the friend she knew and abandoned the ones she didn’t.

_Though sometimes I wonder …_

But Barbara decides that it would be better to not imagine what high school would’ve been like as Diana’s … whatever. Instead, she watches the raven-haired girl whisper something to her handsome companion. Bruce cracks a small smile and Diana beams at him, before taking his hand in hers and squeezing.

_Maybe the most wholesome thing I’ve ever witnessed. That’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine._

Bruce Wayne is … quiet. Which is understandable. His parents passed away when he was a sophomore, and it really changed him. The once self-assured and charismatic young man became a recluse, disappearing from classes and dropping out of football. It was all very shocking and upsetting, even for those students that didn’t know Bruce intimately.

_I can’t imagine what Diana went through … they’re so close. Such a fucked up thing. He didn’t deserve that. Neither of them did._

Fortunately, the melancholic boy seems better now. His eyes have more life in them, his features are less hollow, and he’s smiled at least once today. His hair is still messy and probably too long, but he did get rid of the awful beard, making his sharp jawline and full lips more pronounced. Bruce lost a lot of weight after his parents’ death, but it looks like he’s spent the summer gaining it back in the form of muscle. He and Diana make quite the attractive duo.

But Barbara has never felt drawn to Bruce the way she has to his radiant counterpart. That said, she counts him among the coolest people she’s ever _not_ befriended due to an incident this past July. Barbara never really found out the specifics from Selina (who is prone to secrecy, particularly regarding personal matters), but she does know that her best friend was “dating” an asshole, and that things got tense at a party (as Barbara could’ve predicted), and that Bruce somehow got involved before it all escalated. The douchebag was discarded and Selina was fine.

_Bruce helping her … yeah, that I couldn’t have predicted. But I love him for it! And so does Selina, even if she won’t admit it._

Barbara stares at the high school celebrities for a bit, and seriously considers walking over and sitting down and just saying _something_.

_Or nothing! I could just sit there. Maybe make a witty comment or two after listening to their conversation for context clues. I should do it. I really should. Selina would be so proud._

Barbara is about to stand when their supervisor - Mr. Perry White - finally enters the classroom. She instantly sinks into her chair.

_Damn it, Babs. You coward._

“Ok, quiet down,” Mr. White growls. The chatting and giggling and reminiscing does not cease. Barbara smirks slightly.

_Yeah. Good luck, buddy._

“Alright, enough! Quiet down, I said,” Mr. White bellows.

_That’ll do it._

Not wanting to die young, Barbara’s peers heed the gruff teacher’s words. For now.

“I know that you’re seniors and you’re excited but you’re still in school,” Mr. White monologues. “And this is your last year - your last _chance_ \- to put your best feet forward. To think about what you want from life, and then put in the work to achieve it. For a moment, ya know, really consider that.”

Barbara does.

“What do you _want_?”

* * *


	2. Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of misfits who call themselves "The Titans" play dodgeball. Chaos ensues. Just another day at Kirby High School!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Teen Titans chapter! Some angst at the end, but mostly fun and comedic.

* * *

(Victor’s POV)

 _Garfield is_ _reaaaallly_ _pushing it today._

“Dude, it’s all good. I’m not like, like an idiot or something!”

Victor snorts, loudly.

“See, this is why I don’t trust your judgement.”

“Dude!”

“If you had any self-awareness you would know - you’re an idiot.”

Victor’s scrawny sidekick wrinkles his nose and pouts. Victor raises an eyebrow before going back to putting on his gym sneakers.

_Nice try, bud._

Garfield, realizing that pity is off the table, attempts a new tactic.

“Ok, I’m an idiot, but I know how to drive and it’ll be fine! I swear!”

“Bro …”

“More than fine, it’ll be so bad-ass!” Garfield’s high-pitched voice reverberates throughout the locker room. Luckily, he and Victor are alone; less luckily, they’re alone because they’re late for their first gym class of the year.

_Gar’s fault, as usual._

“Let’s just go play some dodgeball, we can talk about it aft-”

“Allow me,” Garfield purrs, “to paint a picture for you.” Victor smirks, in spite of himself.

_This guy’s got the soul of a sleazy car salesman, I swear._

“Spirit week. Homecoming. The parade’s on the way. There is hype in the air. Ya feel?” Garfield’s emerald eyes sparkle as he gives his pitch. “You and Kory and Dick and … maybe Rachel? No, yeah, Rae’s there too! Anyway. Y'all are waiting. Thousands are watching. Something’s coming. And then. Suddenly, leading the pack - you see it.”

A pause. Garfield seems to be lost in his fantasy.

“... see what?” Victor asks.

“Me. On your moped. Looking bad-ass!”

“You’re losing it, man.”

“Please,” Garfield begs, on his knees. “Please, please, please! Let me borrow it!”

The big, brawny boy groans. “Why do _you_ need to be in the parade? You’re not in a club, the hell are you advertising?!” Garfield looks astounded.

“Um, me. Myself!” He grins. “Open for business, ladies!”

“And I’m done.”

Victor marches out of the locker room, with Garfield rushing after him like an annoying puppy dog.

* * *

(Rachel’s POV)

_Why. Am I here?_

Rachel is sitting in the gymnasium, leaning against the doors, praying that they might transform into a magical portal of some kind, allowing her to fall into a Hell dimension and maybe meet some fun people or at least perish in sexy flames. 

_That would be interesting. This is not._

Kory, meanwhile, is standing. And bouncing. Bopping up and down like a nine-year-old on Christmas morning. Or rather, _most_ nine-year-olds; Rachel emotionally checked out of Christmas when she realized that God and Santa Claus were manipulative lies created by white people and capitalists. She was six.

“I’m so excited!” Kory exclaims, her bubblegum hair flinging about with each bounce.

_No kidding._

“First day of school, first day as juniors,” Kory muses in a sing-songy voice. “First gym class with my all-time bestie!” Kory beams at her sullen friend. Rachel wonders if she could feasibly fake a heart attack.

_I’m 16, doubt he’d buy it. I … could fake cramps? Such a cliche, though. Maybe I should just stop breathing? Death beats dodgeball._

“You’re imagining something dark and disturbing, huh?” Kory’s bright pink lips form a frown as she speaks. No more bouncing. Rachel feels a twinge of guilt.

_Ugh. Damn you Kory and your endless enthusiasm. And adorable face._

“I am … planning my strategy,” Rachel lies. “For the game.”

Kory either believes her or pretends to; regardless, she goes back to singing about juniors and gym class and cupcakes and frosting. All while bopping up and down.

 _… I could fake a stroke?_

More and more kids are entering the gym now, all clad in white T-shirts and gray shorts - the Kirby High gym aesthetic. Rachel wonders if this is what fascism looks like in its early stages. She watches miserably as friend groups gather and boys shout and Coach Garrick brings out a large sack of plastic balls.

_Or smallpox? Maybe polio?_

“Y'all ladies best be ready to party,” an irritating voice calls out.

_… MacGregor’s Syndrome?_

Kory squeals and bolts across the room to Garfield and Victor. Rachel lets out a deep sigh and slowly gets up; she trudges in the direction of her excessively energetic friends.

“I am so ready!” Kory bounces again. “We’re going to kick butt! Kick all the butts!”

_Whoopee._

As if reading Rachel’s mind, Garfield meanders over to his cynical companion and places a slender arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t even worry Rae Rae,” Garfield smoothly delivers. “We all know I’m a pro at D-ball. So you just hide behind me. I’ll protect ya.” The doofus winks and Rachel rolls her eyes.

_Moron._

“Hide behind _you_?” Victor belly laughs. “A gust of wind would knock your stick-ass over.”

Kory giggles and Rachel smirks while Garfield glares at the broad-shouldered jock.

“Bet I last longer than you!”

_Love testosterone. Love it._

“Oh yeah? Tell you what,” Victor says, with mischief in his eyes. “You outlast me? You get the moped.” Garfield’s frown dissolves in an instant and he practically screams.

“DUDE!”

He removes his arm from Rachel’s shoulders and pounces on Victor. Rachel’s lips curve into a tiny frown.

“I love you so much,” Garfield practically sobs. “You won’t regret this! I swear!”

Kory stares at Victor quizzically. He shrugs.

“Alright, bud, calm down,” Victor places Garfield on the ground gently and ruffles his bristly hair. “You win? You can borrow the stupid moped. But if I win … please don’t mention it again.”

“Oh, _I’m_ winning, baby!” Garfield wiggles his eyebrows. “And then … ‘ _I’ll have a mooooped, mooooped, got no bed head, livin’ on a moped_!’” Garfield raps and dances, carefree and loving it. Rachel watches with a hint of a smile.

_A cute moron, I suppose._

“But Gar … why a moped?” Kory asks, genuinely curious.

“He wants to ride in the spirit week parade,” Victor answers with a shrug. Rachel nearly vomits.

“Ugh. Kill me.”

“Oh, that sounds so goofy!” Kory claps her hands together. “We should all do it!”

“Heck yes!”

“Nah.”

“Kill me. Literally kill me.”

Garfield whips around to face Rachel.

“Why you gotta hate?” Rachel shrugs while examining her sharp, purple nails.

“We all do what we’re good at.”

Kory frowns at her dreary best friend for the second time in five minutes.

“But Spirit Week’s fun, Rachel!” Kory sweetly attempts. “You get to dress up each day, and there’s the big game, and parade-”

“Moped, baby!”

“-and the dance!” Kory beams. Rachel sighs.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be there. I’ll just-“

“Be dead inside?” Garfield imitates his friend’s signature gravely drawl. Rachel stares daggers into the smaller kid’s soul.

“Precisely,” she whispers, menacingly. Garfield shudders.

“Don’t worry Rae, it’ll all be different this year!” Victor declares. “We’ve got big plans cooking.”

Victor is the newly-elected student council Vice-President, despite not being a senior.

_Suppose that’s what happens when everyone likes you. Can’t imagine the feeling._

“Ooh, what’s the theme of the dance gonna be, Vic? It better be a …” Garfield thinks for a moment. Then continues enthusiastically, while attempting a vaguely Southern accent. “Cowboy throwdown, huh partner?” He struts with his hands on his hips.

“Yep. Just for you.” Victor shakes his head but smiles.

“I can’t wait, I got snake boots and a whip ready to go!”

“You own a whip?!” Kory is incredulous. Rachel comes _this_ close to laughing.

Garfield turns to the bubbly girl and says, quite seriously, “Yeah. For sex.”

They all smack him. 

“Garfield, quit messing around,” comes the matter-of-fact voice of their unofficial leader, who has finally arrived. “We’ve got a game to win.”

Most of them grin at Dick. Rachel groans.

_… maybe food poisoning?_

* * *

(Dick’s POV)

 _I fucking love this class._

“Alright squad, let’s talk strategy!”

Dick Grayson quickly examines his team.

_Victor Stone. Strong, reliable, competitive. One of my closest friends. And a decent singer! A lesser known fact about the popular Vice-President and baseball star._

“Vic, play aggressively, but watch your back! We need that arm of yours.”

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Victor responds, while smirking at Garfield. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I!” Garfield puffs out his chest and glares at Victor. “That moped is _all mine_.”

_… moped? Never mind. Focus._

Dick regards his other, much shorter, best friend.

_Garfield Logan. Talkative, noisy, obnoxious. Easily our greatest asset._

“Garfield,” Dick begins, kind but confident. “We need you to be the distraction. So, whatever that means to you, go for it, you have total creative freedom!”

“Might regret that,” Rachel mumbles.

“Big, loud, crazy - whatever!” Dick continues. “You’re the only guy for this job.”

“But we … uh, we … kinda,” Garfield stumbles. “Vic and I had a … ‘cause if I’m all ‘distracting’ and stuff then they’ll … like, come at me, like, _all_ of them? And I won’t … it’ll be harder-”

“Look, I’ll be the distraction,” Victor raises his hand. “Gar’s too delicate, it’s obvious.”

“Aww, he is delicate!” Kory observes, without a trace of cruelty in her voice. “Like a little cookie!”

“I am not a … what?! I’m not a cookie!” Garfield blushes brightly. “And I’m not delicate. _I’m_ the distraction! Uh huh. Yeah. Big job, right boss?”

Dick nods, trying to hide his amusement.

“Damn right.” Garfield sticks his tongue out at Victor, who playfully shoves him in response.

“Amazing!” Dick moves on to the two kids he doesn’t know very well.

_Bart Allen. Sophomore, I think. He’s on the track team. Real fast, from what I’ve heard._

“Bart, right?”

The wide-eyed speedster nods enthusiastically.

“Yes, Mr. Team Leader! And honestly, I don’t have the best aim, but I can really move, like fast, and I’ll help! Whatever you need, whenever, just say the word, I’ll do it, I’m there, in a flash!” Bart speaks quickly and eagerly. Dick chuckles.

_Cute kid._

“Tell you what: what we’ll need is a constant flow of ammunition. If we run out in a tight spot, we’re screwed. You’re quick on your feet, so-”

“So grab all the balls I can and keep you guys supplied?”

“You got it!” Dick fist-bumps Bart.

“Ah, yes. The true secret to winning gym class: grabbing balls!” Garfield laughs loudly at his joke.

“Ew, Gar!”

“You dumbass.”

“Moron.”

“Guys!”

“Yo, what should I do?” Dick turns away from the misfits and faces a thin yet fit blonde-haired girl he doesn’t recognize. “I’m Kara, by the way.”

_Must be a freshman. Shit. Probably should’ve greeted her before jumping right into ‘game mode.’_

Dick quickly introduces himself, and his friends follow suit.

“Sorry, um ...” Dick shares a glance with Kory, who’s sympathetic smile comforts him. “We, or _I_ , get really into, uh … dodgeball. Most students aren’t as-”

“Insane?” Rachel offers.

Dick laughs, awkwardly. Kara stares at Dick, then looks at the opposing team (a rowdy group of mostly hormonal boys, shouting and chest-bumping), then back at Dick.

She instantly pulls her long hair back into a ponytail. “I’m in. Let’s destroy ‘em.” Dick grins and Kory enthusiastically high-fives the new kid.

The motley crew continues strategizing. It goes well! Mostly.

“And I’ll be next to you!” Kory blurts out while gazing at her blue-eyed team leader. Silence. Garfield coughs.

“Y-yeah, sure!” Dick reddens. “Whatever works.” Kory is all smiles. Their friends snicker (even Rachel). Bart is confused, but he laughs anyway. Only Kara is bold enough to respond.

“For … strategic purposes? Or-”

“Are we about ready, boss, or what?” Victor quickly asks.

_Thanks Vic. Owe you one._

“Almost! Rachel, um …” Dick turns to the gloomy girl. The girl who claims to _despise_ this class. Yet takes it with her friends every semester. “Do you want to … you could …?” Her eyebrows raise. “I guess … just have fun?”

“I’ll try,” Rachel answers with a smirk.

“Ok then, squad! We’re ready. You know the words.” Dick shares a smile with each of his friends. “Titans … go!”

“... Titans?” Kara is bewildered.

* * *

(Garfield’s POV)

_You are Garfield Logan._

_You are a legend._

_Your middle name? It isn’t “Mark.” It’s Majestic._

_You’re funny, you’re sexy, you’ll probably be tall one day, but the point is: you’re. The. Man!_

_Why else would Dick give you the most important job on dodgeball day?_

_Why else would … did Rachel just smile at me?! That was totally a good luck smile! I’m for sure gonna wink._

_And now she’s frowning. Now she’s glaring. Now scowling. It’s cool!_

_Why? ‘Cause you’re Garfield Logan._

_You dye your hair green - THAT is manly! You are known for … are we starting? Ah. Ok._

_Here we go. It’s cool! It’s cool._

_You can do this. You can be the distraction. You distract people all the time in Math class. You live for distracting! You’re the biggest distraction since cable TV!_

_Look at you go. You’re killing it!_

_‘Course you are! Ain’t no one surprised. You’re Garfield Majestic Logan. And you’re gonna look so sexy on that moped, she’ll totally have to smile at y-_

Garfield is hit by twelve or so balls while doing the chicken dance. He falls to the ground, covering his face. More balls repeatedly peg him in the head.

_I’m so sorry moped. I failed you. I got … distracted._

* * *

(Kory’s POV)

“Hey Kara!”

Kory catches up to her new classmate as she leaves the locker room.

“Oh, what’s up, um …?” Kara rubs the back of her neck. “I’ll be honest, I forgot your name.”

“Kory!” She beams at the new student. “It starts with ‘K,’ like yours. That should help!”

“Oh, right,” Kara smiles. “I’ll remember now. No promises 'bout your friends though.”

“Well, they don’t matter anyway,” Kory jokes.

“Gotcha.” Kara quietly chuckles.

_Oh, I hope that didn’t seem mean or “shit-talky.” I don’t want to come off that way. She seems so nice!_

“You played really well!” Kory beams again. Kara raises an eyebrow.

“We lost.”

“Well, yeah, but you were kicking major butt the whole time! You’re way better than me, than most of us, in fact.”

“Ah, well, thanks,” Kara responds. “I did some sports at my last school. No biggie.”

“Oh, so you’re a transfer? Very cool!"

Kara nods. “Yeah. I’m from Kansas, originally. A small town, small school too. This is … different.”

“Totally! That’s so cool.”

“Yeah.” The two girls stand in silence outside the locker rooms for a few moments.

_Transfer! Wow. That’s probably hard, harder than being a freshman, even. I hope she’s doing ok._

“Well,” Kara begins, checking her phone. “I should go, I have Bio in-”

“Hey, Kara?” She looks up. “If you ever want to grab lunch, or hang after school, or anything, we’d … the Titans will totally welcome you!”

_… was that weird?_

Kara laughs and Kory feels relief wash over her. “Noted. And thanks.” She starts to walk away, before turning back. “So … Titans? Why’s that a thing?”

Kory shrugs. “You should ask Garfield!”

“Which one is … nevermind, I’ll figure it out!” Kara waves and departs down the hallway.

_I … think I have a new friend. And this one doesn’t hate literally everything!_

Rachel wanders out of the locker room.

_Speak of the devil._

“You didn’t wait for me,” she monotones while brushing violet strands of hair from her face.

“You were showering, you told me not to!”

“You usually do anyway.” Rachel’s piercing gray eyes meet Kory’s hazel orbs. “What’s up?”

“Well … I invited Kara to hang with us!”

“The freshman? Why?”

“She’s not a freshman, she’s from a different school, and she’s new and stuff and …” Kory trails off. “I thought it’d be nice!”

Rachel shrugs. “Ok, makes sense.” Kory says nothing. “What’s …up?”

Kory faces her friend and speaks quickly, “Is it weird that I did that? We don’t really know her. Oh, will the guys be weird about it?! Crap. I don’t want to make anything weird, I just thought it’d be cute-”

Rachel softly places her hand on the taller girl’s shoulder. “Relax. It _was_ cute. You’re fine. If Gar acts weird, I’ll hit him.” Kory giggles.

“Ok. Sorry, I just … I know it’s not easy, is all.” Kory fiddles with her scarlet skirt.

_I’m freezing._

_Wet. I’m wet. Suddenly I’m soaking. And I’m freezing._

_“Aww, look at the little princess! She looks better that way, doesn’t she girls?”_

_Laughter. Everywhere. I don’t scream. Or cry. I don’t even move. More laughter._

“Kory?”

_Rae._

Her calm voice brings Kory back to the present.

“I …”

“Look, a deal’s a deal!” Victor strolls out of the locker room with Garfield at his heels.

“I get that, but … best 2 out of 3?” the smaller boy whines.

Kory feigns a bright smile at the squabbling duo.

“Eh, I don’t know.”

“C’mon Vic!” Garfield turns to Rachel. “Rae, tell him to give me another chance? Please?”

Rachel sighs. “Garfield says he wants another chance.” Garfield smiles impishly. “He also says you’re ugly.”

Victor gasps. “Wow, Gar, real nice.”

“Rae! I didn’t-”

“And stupid," Rachel adds.

“It all comes out. Guess no moped for you!” Victor shrugs and starts heading to his next class, all while humming “Drive My Car” by _The Beatles_.

“I didn’t … very funny Rachel!” Garfield glares at his sometimes adversary and she flicks him on the head. He then barrels down the hallway after Victor. “Dude! Wait up! DUDE!”

Rachel watches Garfield scamper off with an uncharacteristic warmth in her eyes. Kory bites her lip to stop herself from grinning.

_They’re so married._

Rachel notices Kory staring and clears her throat. “Um,” she mutters while smoothing out her black dress. “I have AP English, so … I’ll see you at lunch.” Kory nods and Rachel begins her departure. But she suddenly pauses and says, “The Kara thing was nice. You’re … a really good person. And friend.”

Kory’s eyebrows raise and she smiles widely; a million different “thank-you’s” and compliments immediately pop into her head, but Rachel rushes off before Kory can express them. Kory rolls her eyes.

_Thank you, Rachel! That was so nice! I’m so glad we’re best friends!_

_No problem, Kory! I like expressions of gratitude and love! Who wouldn’t?_

_… if only._

Dick finally walks out of the male locker room with a slight slouch in his shoulders; Kory skips over to him.

“Hey.”

“Hi Kory. Bummer of a first class, huh?”

She frowns. “Don’t say that, we played super well!”

“We did,” he relents with a sigh. ”I was just off. I think I need to reexamine some of our strategies. Maybe if we play more defensively, try to outlast them …”

Kory’s eyes twinkle and she brushes her hand through Dick’s jet black hair. “You sound a little crazy, you know. It’s just dodgeball. Shouldn’t you be focusing on _soccer_ , Mr. Co-Captain?”

“I know! I care about that too, obviously." He sighs, sheepishly. "I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“What?” Kory studies his face while he prepares to speak. She gazes at his blue eyes - _ocean_ blue, she decides. She sees the slightest bit of stubble growing above his thin lips, and some more growing on his chin. She wonders what he would look like with a mustache or a beard.

_Like a sexy professor, probably._

She wickedly smiles at the thought.

“I know soccer's objectively more important, and there's school and stuff, but ...” Dick reddens a bit as he speaks. “Gym class has ... my friends. It has you.”

Kory’s face flushes at his words.

_Adorable. We’re totally kissing now._

She stands on her tip-toes and softly meets the young man’s lips with her own. His firm arms wrap around her lower back and she smiles into his mouth.

_“Where’s your boyfriend to help you now, princess?”_

_More laughter._

Kory tries to push the past away as she embraces her boyfriend outside of the lockers.

* * *


	3. Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A variety of students at Kirby High enjoy their first lunch of the year!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longish one - lots of characters and POV's! Also: note the shameless BOOKSMART reference (if you haven't seen it, you really should, it's a fantastic high school comedy).

* * *

(Hal’s POV)

Hal Jordan rolls into the school parking lot on a cheap-looking black motorcycle at 11:35 am - fashionably late to lunch. He wears a worn-down, brown leather jacket, tight-fitting jeans, and red-tinted sunglasses. If his auburn hair was slicked back (and not an unkempt mess, as per usual) it would complete the image of a mid-century movie star.

While Hal parks his vehicle, Carol Ferris and her gaggle of cheerleaders slowly drive past him in a silver Lexus convertible.

“‘Sup James Dean,” Carol calls out. Her friends giggle while Hal remains stone-faced. “Nice ride, it really matches your ... _aesthetic_. I see you’re still dressing like you’re auditioning for _Grease_.”

Dryly, Hal retorts with, “I see you’re still looking.”

Carol rolls her eyes. “Whatever. We’re heading to Chipotle, got any plans? Aside from doing the hand jive at a sock hop.” More giggles.

“I’m meeting up with Barry and Iris.” He leans forward and says, in a sultry voice, “Try not to miss me.”

”In your dreams.” Second eye roll. “See, _cool_ seniors actually take advantage of open lunch.”

Hal shrugs with his hands in his pockets. “Never was very cool. Oh well. See ya Saturday night, Ferris!” Carol’s cheeks suddenly match her pink blouse; she quickly glances at her friends, who stare back with raised eyebrows.

“I … don’t … we’re not …” Carol stammers while gripping the wheel tightly. “Whatever. Bye.” She drives off without ever meeting Hal’s gaze. He smirks.

_She’s cute when she’s flustered. Even cuter with less clothes on._

Hal lazily meanders passed the administration building and toward the large field in the center of the campus (nicknamed the “big lawn”). He sees dozens of students laughing at picnic tables and lounging on the grass. The sun beats down on frisbee players, selfie-takers, sun-tanners, sandwich eaters, and homework-copiers. Two freshmen rush by Hal and a third bumps into him. Hal stares down at the culprit - a shaggy-haired boy who is leaning on a crutch.

“Sorry, uh, dude,” he mutters while sheepishly grinning. “We were playing tag, you know how it goes. Later!” The boy quickly heads in the direction of his cackling friends; Hal smiles slightly and his mind wanders.

 _“Barry! Wake up!”_

_Rock meets window. Nothing._

_“Barry!”_

_I throw two more rocks. Still nothing._

_“Barry! Get your ass outta bed!”_

_The blinds are pushed aside and the window is shoved open. A small blonde head sticks out. Finally._

_“... Hal?! It’s the middle of the night!”_

_“Yeah, I realize that.” I’m grinning. I can’t help it. “But this is important.”_

_He groans and rubs his eyes. “It’s a school night, what’s so important?”_

_I shrug. “I’m hungry. Wanna go to Papa’s?”_

_“You’re … hungry?!” Barry’s eyes bulge and his mouth hangs open. I grin even harder._

_“It’s open 24-hours, you coming or what?” Barry just stares in shock, mouth agape. “You’re awake now, right? May as well.” He’s still staring. “You … wouldn’t make me go alone, right buddy?”_

_“... I hate you. Be down in five.” He shuts the window and I’m still grinning._

Hal spots his childhood best friend sitting under a tree across the field, sharing food and cuddling with his girlfriend. As he wanders over to the pair, Hal considers how much Barry Allen has changed they met in elementary school. His once light blonde hair is now home to darker hues; he’s still skinny, but he sprouted after going through puberty, now towering over most of his peers (even Hal is slightly shorter). Barry was always pale as a kid (since whenever he wasn’t hanging with his partner-in-crime he was inside studying), but after he joined cross country as a sophomore he has consistently developed annual summer tans; sometimes the sun even paints light freckles on his cheeks. Barry has also worn glasses since he was 14, repeatedly refusing to try contacts.

_Makes sense. He’s a nerd. The glasses fit perfectly._

Of course, the newest “thing” about Barry is his girlfriend, Iris West. They started dating at the end of Junior Year, after an insufferably long “will they/won’t they” period, during which Hal almost murdered his shy companion more than once.

_“She likes you. Ask her out.”_

_“But … how do you know?”_

_“She told me.”_

_“Really?! Is that real?”_

_“If I say ‘yes,’ will you stop being a pussy and ask her out?”_

_“She … she really told you?”_

_“Sure.”_

_“Did she or didn’t she?”_

_“Ask her out, Barry.”_

_“... I don't know … I just … I don’t want to ruin our friendship, you know?”_

_“Jesus …”_

But it all worked out in the end. Barry found the courage to ask Iris to prom and the lovebirds have been inseparable ever since. And Hal, of course, is way too “cool” to lose sleep over the fact that _he_ and Barry used to be the inseparable ones.

“By all means, don’t stop canoodlin’ for my benefit.” Barry grins and turns away from Iris to face his sarcastic friend.

“‘Canoodling’? Real topical lingo there, Hal," he jokes. "Also, the 60's called, they wants their jacket back."

Hal rolls his eyes. “ _So_ funny - what is it with people? Can’t a guy just live his life, wear some vintage clothes, _maybe_ buy a motorcycle to piss off his borderline psychotic dad without everyone making shitty ‘James Dean’ jokes?”

Hal wasn’t _completely_ lying - the motorcycle was mainly meant to serve as an “F-you” to his father; though it would be a lie to say that _Rebel Without a Cause_ and _East of Eden_ weren’t two of Hal’s favorite movies.

“Don’t you have a poster of James Dean in your bedroom?” Barry smirks and Iris coughs to hide a giggle.

_Not … since I took it down._

“Ignore him, Hal,” says Barry’s sunset-haired future wife. “I think the motorcycle is really cool!”

“Thank you, thank you.” Hal lies on the grass in front of the couple and starts eating carrots from Barry’s lunch bag. “How were classes?”

Barry shrugs while Iris eagerly says, “So far pretty fun! Political Theory is going to be really interesting, I think. Anthropology too! Mr. Hall is so cool. And in homeroom - this was awesome - our teacher had us go around and each say what our favorite memory from high school was and it was so cute! And I … said prom with Barry, obviously.” She blushes and her eyes flutter in her boyfriend’s direction.

_Wild. Please keep talking, really._

“Oh, and we’re in the same Math class, Hal! If you want, I could save you a seat tomorrow? Next to me - if you want, of course!” Iris sweetly smiles while nervously playing with the hem of her skirt.

_Well. Now I feel bad._

Hal scratches his head and slowly replies, “Thanks Iris, but … I don’t really-”

“Hal hates Math,” Barry nonchalantly delivers. “He never goes.”

“I don’t hate …” Hal sighs. “It’s a long story. Bonehead.” He playfully smacks Barry on the thigh.

Iris does a good job of looking _very_ intrigued. “I’d like to hear it! If that’s ok with you, Hal. Obviously.”

_Someone just reeeealllly wants me to like her, huh?_

Hal sighs again and sits up, grabbing Barry’s entire lunch bag in the process (Barry shrugs and takes out some homework and a pencil). Hal monologues while eating Barry’s food.

“When I was a freshman, I was put into Mr. Thaal’s Algebra class. Some upperclassmen warned me about him, but I was like: whatever, teachers are teachers, it’ll be fine. First day of class he writes a problem on the chalkboard, and says that whoever solves it first gets a $10 Taco Bell gift card.” Iris nods enthusiastically while Barry grunts at the mention of Taco Bell. “I knew that Barry and I could eat like princes at Taco Bell with $10, so I decided to solve the problem before anyone else and … I did.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Eh. Not quite.” Hal chomps on a carrot. “Mr. Thaal demanded that I 'show my work,' claiming that the answer only mattered if I followed _his_ formula to get it. I was like - who cares _how_ I solved the problem as long as I solved it correctly? He said that if I couldn’t get the same answer by using ‘the right’ method, then my answer was worthless. I told him his class was worthless.”

Iris gasps. “You actually said that?”

“No.” Hal makes eye contact with Barry, who smirks in response. “I said: you have a small penis and your wife cheats on you. Correct answer?”

Barry laughs heartily, falling onto his side and shaking, while Iris simply looks shocked. However, she soon joins in on the laughter, and Hal grins while watching the couple split their sides.

“And Thaal has been my sworn enemy ever since.”

* * *

(Kara’s POV)

Kara walks out of the science building and is nearly trampled by a jock stampede as numerous football players rush past her - screaming at the younger students and laughing at their mortified expressions. She decides that she has mixed feelings about Kirby High.

The school is pretty and shiny and … wealthy. The weather is a bit colder than what Kara’s used to but that’s fine. Gym was a pleasant surprise (made more pleasant by “the Titans,” the only students who’ve even talked to Kara so far), but the other classes seem like they’ll be just as boring as they were at Smallville High.

_And also ten times harder, since this is a school for "gifted kids" ... a fancy term for "rich kids," you ask me._

The teachers are dull but polite, the bathrooms are shockingly clean, and her classmates are … complicated? It wasn’t difficult for Kara to make friends back home; she was a pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed basketball player - a perfect recipe for a Smallville celebrity. She was (technically) very popular, despite the fact that she never felt truly _close_ to any of her peers.

_'Cept for one kid, but … that ended terribly, didn't it._

Regardless, Kirby is a different entity entirely. The school is three times the size of Smallville High, it’s forty miles outside of Metropolis (one of the largest cities in the world), and it’s full of New York state’s best, brightest, and most beautiful; essentially, Kara is out of her league. In fact, if not for Bruce Wayne (one of her cousin's best friend's) graciously offering to pay her full tuition, Kara would probably be at some public school, having never witnessed the pristine walls and well-cultivated lawns of Kirby High School.

_I’m still shocked they let my Kansas-ass walk around the property freely. These kids might catch my stupid._

Her phone buzzes and she sees a text from her cousin.

“ **Hey** **Karebear :) Hope your first day’s been great! We’re eating on the big lawn, come join us!** ”

_… the hell is a “big lawn?”_

Kara looks around and sees a bespectacled redhead staring at her phone only a few feet away. She’s cute, and seems semi-approachable, so Kara shrugs and casually walks up to her.

“Hey, do you know where the ‘big la-?”

“Hello?” The redhead urgently presses her buzzing phone to her ear. “Selina? Where are you, I thought we were meeting … now? What?! Where are we … who’s driving?!” She speed-walks away, leaving Kara feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

“Welp,” she mutters. “Fuck me, I guess.” Kara decides to aimlessly wander the campus until she runs into the so-called “big lawn.”

_Maybe I’ll find Narnia too? With this school, I would not be surprised._

* * *

(Barbara’s POV)

_Oh my god, I might die. This is it. This is the end._

Barbara grips her seatbelt with both hands, tugging it as close as possible to her chest; she shuts her eyes tight as she, Harley, Pamela, and Selina cruise through the streets in Harley’s purple Mustang convertible.

“Woohoo, freedom!” Harley shouts while driving absurdly fast and irresponsibly. “It’s like _Thelma and Louise_!”

“But with a wet blanket in the backseat,” Pamela coolly drawls while smirking at Barbara. The terrified redhead doesn’t even react.

_This is it. It’s happening. Cause of death: stupidity. That’s what they’ll say in the morgue. I’ll be a statistic, they’ll talk about me at boring high school presentations. DON’T BE LIKE BARBARA, DRIVE SAFE._

“Hey, Babs!” Selina says while chuckling; she gently takes her terrified friend’s hand to get her attention, and Barbara decides that Selina is altogether acting _way_ too casual about this perilous situation. “Earth to Barbara! Chill out, you’re fine. Harley is-“

“Going to kill us!” Barbara screams, eyes still shut.

Harley cackles and stomps on the acceleration, shouting: “I DON’T GIVE A F-”

_Curtains. Lights out. Darkness. See ya. Goodnight. Show’s over. Roll credits. Dead._

“Babs? We made it. You’re alive. C’mon, I’m hungry.”

Barbara slowly opens her eyes, realizes she somehow isn’t dead or horribly injured, and sees her green-eyed best friend’s unmistakable cheshire smile. Barbara scowls in response.

“Selina. We’re done. Our friendship? It’s over! Yeah. You’re friends are _insane_ and … and I hate you!”

The black-haired beauty snorts and gets out of the car.

“... I mean it!” Barbara shouts after her. “We’re done!”

But after taking a few moments to collect herself (and sighing deeply several times), Barbara reluctantly follows her almost-murderers into the mall.

* * *

(Hal’s POV)

Hal finishes Barry’s lunch and shoves the empty bag into his friend’s backpack.

“You going to Arthur’s party on Friday?” Barry looks up from his homework and smiles in disbelief.

“He’s throwing one already? The year just started!”

Hal shrugs while fiddling with a green ring on his index finger. “He’s a lunatic - it’s common knowledge. You going?”

Barry rubs his neck nervously and glances in the direction of his girlfriend, who’s chatting with some friends across the field.

_10 bucks he says: “no, ‘cause … Iris.”_

“I’m not sure,” Barry slowly starts. “I’d like to Hal, but … Iris doesn’t … it really wouldn’t be her scene, you know?”

_Called it._

“This is just a _wild_ idea, but … she doesn’t have to come?” Hal tries to mask his irritation by over-dramatically shrugging for comedic effect. It works - Barry chuckles.

“True, but what if she feels weird? About me, like … partying without her?”

“Are you planning on fucking someone?”

Barry’s eyes go wide. “What? No, why would you …? What?!” Barry looks around frantically, as if private detectives hired by Iris are listening behind every bush and tree. “Don’t say stuff like that!”

“Relax. You look insane.” Hal does his best to not laugh at his friend’s paranoia. “Relax. She knows you're loyal and you know you're too much of a wuss to even look at another girl so … what’s the biggie?”

Barry frowns. “Not wanting to cheat doesn’t make me a ‘wuss.’”

“No, but avoiding anything _fun_ because your girlfriend has a leash on you does.”

“She doesn’t have a …” Barry rubs his neck again - right in the spot where a leash would probably attach, Hal imagines. “She’s coming back, so just … drop it for now. But I might go, ok?”

Hal slyly smiles. “I’ll take a ‘might.’”

The blonde goody-two-shoes shakes his head but also smiles. Iris returns - skipping across the grass like a forest nymph - and practically sits on Barry’s lap.

“Sorry, I was coming back from the water fountain when Crystal called me over and we chatted for a bit!” She sweetly looks into Barry’s eyes. “What’d I miss, love?”

_… ew?_

* * *

(Barbara’s POV)

“Can we just talk about how bad-ass this is?!” Harley plops her tray down and sits across from Selina and Barbara at their table in the food court. “We’re like, eating at a mall. It’s noon, on a school day, and we’re eating at a _mall_! Like adults! Guys … we’re adults now.”

Barbara resists the urge to laugh loudly.

_Ha! Harley acts about as “adult” as I did in elementary school. Except she somehow has access to a car. Terrifying._

“Finally,” Selina purrs while stretching her arms. “I’ve been patiently waiting for three years. All 'little freshman Selina' wanted was to be treated with the respect she deserved. And to _occasionally_ ditch campus during lunch and get drunk out of her mind on red wine.”

Harley almost chokes on her fries from giggling too exuberantly. Barbara, however, gives her smirking companion a disapproving look.

“You wouldn’t seriously like … ‘black-out’ or whatever during a lunch period?” Selina flashes Barbara a devilish grin, giving the redhead goosebumps and confirming her sexuality (though, if she was being honest, that was confirmed the first time she saw Diana's gorgeous smile).

Selina practically whispers, “How do you think I plan on getting through exam week?”

Harley roars with laughter, her blonde pigtails bouncing with each over-dramatic guffaw. Selina looks very pleased with herself as she sips her milkshake and examines her blood-red nails. But Barbara simply sighs and sinks into her chair.

_… do I even belong here? With them?_

While she lazily pokes at her Caesar Salad, Barbara uses her peripheral vision to observe her … _sort-of_ best friend while she chats with Harley.

Barbara has always considered Selina Kyle to be leagues more attractive than her - than most girls, in fact. And it’s not like that’s a controversial opinion; she is objectively stunningly beautiful. Her alluring emerald eyes are accentuated by smoky eye-shadow, while Barbara wears boring glasses and rarely uses makeup. Selina styles and restyles her sleek black hair constantly, having recently settled on a cute pixie-cut; but Barbara’s hair is … just hair - unstyled, uncurled, unstraightened (she decides that those would be her House words if she was in _A Song of Ice and Fire_ \- she smiles at her dorky joke).

Puberty was very kind to Selina - kinder than it was to her flat-chested companion, at least. She quickly grew from a cute pre-teen into a voluptuous young woman with curves beyond her years.

_While I was waiting patiently for boobs that, as of today, have yet to arrive._

Selina has also always dressed better than Barbara, who usually wears plain jeans, a t-shirt or generic sweater, and an oversized blue windbreaker jacket (to be fair, Selina has repeatedly tried to introduce her friend to the supposed wonders of fashion, but Barbara has never been interested). Selina, on the other hand, sports an ever-changing assortment of flashy outfits. Currently, she is wearing a leather mini-dress that ends at her upper thighs - showing off her shapely bronze legs - and is unzipped enough to reveal partial cleavage. A black belt rests on her hip and a metal chain dangles from it; finally, her feet are adorned in high-heeled ankle boots.

_A bit classier than my red converses._

Barbara is not exactly jealous of her bombshell best friend; she’s certainly had her moments of insecurity during their lengthy relationship, but for the most part she admires Selina’s beauty and glamorous aesthetic. However, as she compares herself and Selina now - their clothes, their styles, their interests, their life choices - Barbara sadly wonders …

_Do we even have anything in common anymore?_

“Hey.” Barbara hears a familiar husky voice and slowly meets Selina’s gaze. “You good, Babs? You know I was kidding about the exam thing, right?”

“... sure about that?” Barbara mumbles. Selina frowns slightly and stares at her friend with concern; Harley just rolls her eyes.

“Lighten up, dude!” She chomps on a few fries and takes a swig from her cream soda. “We’re seniors! We’re supposed to have fun and break the rules, that’s the whole, like, point of the thing!”

“The point … are you crazy?!” Barbara stares daggers at Harley and her voice breaks slightly; Selina winces, knowing from past experiences that it means the normally reserved girl is about to entirely lose her cool. “The _point_ is to study, actually attend your classes, get good grades, hopefully learn _something_ , and then go off to an amazing college! That is the ‘point’ of this whole ‘thing,’ if you guys weren’t partying all the time you would-”

Harley shrugs. “Whatever, I have a 3.8.”

“-know that … what?”

“A 3.8? GPA? Yeah, I get good grades, dude.” Harley looks incredibly smug as she watches Barbara’s bewildered expression take shape.

_… no way. Nope. She’s lying. Right?_

“But … you guys-”

“And Pamela’s got like a 4.3 or something, ‘cause she takes AP classes and, ya know, is a genius.”

“Hold on, rewind … you have … how?” Barbara quickly glances between Harley and Selina. “I thought you guys … Selina is always telling me about the day-drinking and ‘ragers’ and-”

“Well yeah, we do _things_ , we leave the house on occasion, but we’re not, like, morons. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Harley folds her arms and smirks. “Unless the book is _you_ , ‘cause you’re about as much of a drag as you look.”

Barbara glares at the pasty-faced girl before turning to Selina for some kind of explanation, but the normally brazen young woman sheepishly says, “They actually helped me study for finals last spring, and I … didn’t _fail_ them, so … big win, in my book.”

_… have I entered The Twilight Zone? What is happening?_

Barbara slowly faces the floor and picks at her nail as she says, “I’ve tried to get you to study with _me_ since middle school …”

“I know, you’re a sweetie.” Selina smiles at her best friend and softly touches her shoulder. “I mean, I’ve been trying to get you to party with me since … kindergarten, I think?”

Barbara chuckles while shaking her head. “Not kindergarten, stupid-”

“First grade? Maybe second?” Selina looks at Harley for the answer.

The mischievous blonde pretends to take this all _very_ seriously; she ponders the question while holding a fry in her palm like Yorick’s skull. “First grade is kinda late, honestly. I was chugging bourbon as a fetus.” Selina cackles and Barbara’s eyes go wide, but Harley just shrugs in response.

_… and SHE has a 3.8?!_

“Fuck America,” Pamela grumbles while finally arriving at the table; Harley smiles widely and immediately gives her beautiful, blunt, overall-wearing girlfriend her full attention. “I told the guy that I was a vegetarian and he looked as if I had insulted his entire family. He kept offering me chicken, over and over, like … that’s the opposite of what I can eat! Ugh. This country sucks.”

“I hate him!” Harley growls while grabbing Pamela’s hand. “If I was there he’d be _done_. It’s cute that you wanna save the animals! Anyone who says otherwise - DONE.”

“It’s … a bit more complex than ‘saving the animals,’ but thanks babe. I do appreciate the promise of violence against douchebags.” Harley giggles maniacally in response while Pamela’s red lips curve into a mirthful smirk. Barbara watches the couple with a small smile and acknowledges that, regardless of their effect on Selina’s life (which is still up for debate, Barbara reminds herself), they are very cute together … though also a bit frightening and potentially murderous.

“So, what’s the plan for this weekend?” Pamela asks, brushing aside her long, burnt-orange hair. “We doing Arthur’s party, or do we just commit to drunk karaoke at Harley’s?” Said girl excitedly waves her hands in the air and bounces in her seat like a child.

“Oooh, oooh, I pick karaoke! Karaoke all the way, oh yes, I’m so excited, I can’t friggin’ wait! Karaoke!”

While Harley tries to get her girlfriend to commit to singing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” with her, Selina shares a look with Barbara - one of those telepathic looks that only best friends can interpret and respond to.

_“Come party with us? Please?”_

_“I don’t know, Selina.”_

_“They’re fun, it’s fun, you deserve FUN!”_

_“Selina …”_

_“I promise you’ll have a good time, I’ll make sure of it.”_

_“I’m just not a big ‘party-goer,’ maybe we could watch The Princess Bride at my place? With popcorn? Sober?”_

_“This is our last year together, it’s our last chance, and … all that mushy stuff. So pretty please? For me, Babs?”_

Barbara realizes that creating an imaginary conversation between herself and Selina in her mind is a little too weird, so instead she sighs and slowly says, “I would … maybe be ok with either option.”

Selina grins while Harley almost chokes on another fry and Pamela’s eyebrows raise.

“You … wanna join?” Pamela asks before checking to make sure that her girlfriend doesn’t die from asphyxiation brought on by reckless eating.

“Sure. I mean, I might not drink, or if I do it won’t be all that much, but I’d …” Barbara glances at Selina, her best friend, the girl she’s known since elementary school.

_“Hey! Who are you?”_

_A skinny kid with short, black hair stands before six-year-old Barbara, with one hand on her hip and a glint of mischief in her eyes._

_“Um … I’m Barbara? Why?”_

_Six-year-old Selina shrugs. “Dunno. But we’re friends now! I just decided.”_

_“What, uh, wait, why?”_

_Another shrug. “Everyone else sucks. Looks like we’re stuck together, Babs! C’mon, let’s go ruin someone’s hopscotch game.”_

_Barbara isn’t even given a chance to protest as Selina grabs her hand and they rush off together._

“... I’d love to join you guys!” Barbara finishes as she shares a warm smile with Selina.

“It’s settled then,” Selina decides. “We’ll begin with a delightful karaoke pregame featuring all of our lovely voices-”

“And our duet! It’s happening!” Harley nudges her girlfriend repeatedly.

“... and a duet, yes, it’ll be great, and then we’ll make a grand entrance at whatever-his-name’s party-”

“You _know_ it’s Arthur, like, you know that,” Pamela dryly insists.

Selina ignores her. “And we’ll laugh the night away while drinking fancy martinis - except Babs, who’ll down a few kiddie cocktails or something.”

Barbara rolls her eyes but can’t resist grinning; she is, in spite of herself, rather excited. Nervous, for sure, especially about the party, and somewhat scared of dying in a freak karaoke accident, but also excited.

_If Harley, an actual insane person, can ‘rage’ all the time and still get decent grades, then I doubt my 4.0 will suffer, at least._

“Also, fun facts - it’s a pool party, so …” Harley bites her lip and wiggles her eyebrows. “We about to be seeeeeeexy! Ooh!” She turns to Pamela and takes both of her hands. “Let’s skip fifth period and go shopping right now! It’s syllabus day anyway - DUMB!”

While the two adorable maniacs debate the merits of truancy, Selina turns to Barbara and purrs, “Thanks for agreeing to come with. Assuming you don’t chicken out before Friday night and actually end up going to the party, I promise: I’ll study with you so hard before finals.”

Barbara laughs loudly and smiles at her _for-sure_ best friend.

_Because we do have something in common._

_We’re still stuck together._

* * *

(Kara’s POV)

As soon as she stumbles upon an ocean of students and realizes she must have found the big lawn, Kara is swept into large arms and a tight embrace and swiftly spun around.

_Clark …_

“Karebear! You made it!” After a few more dizzying spins, Kara is gently placed on the grass; she looks up and sees her cousin’s unmistakable baby blues, strong jawline, glistening teeth, and old-fashioned kiss-curl.

_Forever a boy scout. Gotta love him._

“Hiya cuz.” The shorter girl gives Clark a pat on his robust shoulder while he grins at her. “Thanks for attacking me, I feel very welcomed.”

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s plenty more welcoming to be had. C’mon, everyone wants to see you!” Clark gestures for Kara to follow him as he leads the way further onto the field.

As they walk, Kara notices that her cousin is rather overdressed for the warm, early-September weather; he is clad in a checkered dress shirt - tucked into his pants, sleeves rolled up - and dark blue dress jeans. Kara examines her own outfit - black yoga pants and a flowy tank-top that reveals the back of her sports bra - and releases a cynical chuckle. In some ways, she could not be more different from her quarterback, honor student, straight-laced cousin.

They approach a table in the center of the big lawn, and Kara sees Clark’s long-time girlfriend sitting across from a scruffy guy with a blonde beard and a curly-haired redhead - both of whom she doesn’t recognize. When Lois Lane sees the duo approaching, she smiles and hurries over to them.

“Hey kid, long time no banter!” Kara grins in response to the sharp-tongued brunette as she’s pulled into another hug. “Good first day? I hope Smallville here isn’t _forcing_ you to hang with us boring elderly folk.” Lois raises an eyebrow at Clark, who suddenly looks concerned.

“I … don’t think I am, I figured she … but if you’d rather spend lunch with some of your classmates Kara, I totally under-”

Kara laughs and cuts him off. “Dude, chill! It’s fine. Heck, I’m happy to be invited. Ya'll are like the popular kids and stuff.” Lois wraps an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders.

“Correction - _I’m_ popular. I just keep him around to carry my things.” Kara sniggers as she’s led to the table by the young woman with acerbic wit; Clark shakes his head and smiles before following.

Kara has always liked Lois. They first met when Kara visited her cousin while he was midway through freshman year at Kirby High. He and his parents had only recently moved to New York from Kansas after Aunt Martha got a well-paying job at Wayne Enterprises. Clark’s first few months were hard … he had spent most of his life in Smallville; his friends, his ex-girlfriend Lana, and his family (including Kara) were suddenly over a thousand miles away - he had no one, and Kirby High School can be … daunting. However, by the time Kara visited him during his first winter break, he had been “rescued” by the smart, sexy, fast-talking daughter of the editor-in-chief at _The Daily Planet_. Lois, despite her sardonic nature, adored Clark and treated him well; and upon meeting her, Kara sort of fell in love too.

_Who wouldn’t? She’s sarcastic and hilarious … that’s kinda all you need in a human._

As Kara approaches the table, she sees the curly-haired kid face her and smile broadly. His cheeks are coated with freckles and there’s an impish gleam in his eyes. Kara is suddenly reminded of the redheaded girl from earlier who totally ignored her, and she frowns a bit.

“Hey! Listen up,” Lois commands. “This is Kara, she’s new here, she’s frickin’ _awesome_ , so … don’t be weird, kay guys? Jimmy, looking at you.”

The freckled boy blanches and Kara sort of feels bad for him.

“Hi dudes, uh … what up?” She throws up a peace sign, immediately regrets it, but then decides: _screw it, I guess that’s where I’m at today, may as well commit_.

The scruffy blonde is the first to reply. “Oliver Queen. A real pleasure.” Kara shakes his hand and observes how his beard ruffles when he grins. “Clark says you’re a real pro at basketball?”

“Eh, I’m alright.” She shrugs and her yellow hair tosses in the wind.

“Ollie, she’s fantastic!” the boy scout proudly states while sitting next to Lois. “She carried Smallville High’s team to nationals twice! Two years in a row! Consecutive!”

“Okay Clark, thanks for the sales pitch.” Kara rolls her eyes and tries not to smile too widely at her cousin’s kind words. While Ollie laughs in approval of the witty remark, Kara turns toward the curly-haired redhead - or Jimmy, she recalls. He is fiddling with his phone and hasn’t met her gaze since Lois called him out.

_Kinda cute how embarrassed he is … I should probably say something. ‘Cause I doubt he’ll ever speak again after Lois’ vicious attack._

“Yo, Jimmy right?” His phone is suddenly _gone_ and he is looking right at her. “Hey! I’m-”

“Kara, yeah.” Jimmy stands and displays a toothy grin. “Clark, he’s mentioned you a ton, I feel like we’ve already met! But yeah, I’m Jimmy Olson, I’m a Junior, I do photography for the school newspaper, I have a dog, which is cool, and …” He nervously glances at Lois who smirks in return. “I’m talking too much - I’m making it weird, sorry. Um.” He high-fives Kara (who is incredibly amused by all of this) and then ends with, “Glad you’re here! I’m done now.” He quickly sits and stares at his phone again.

“Well … cool about the dog!” Kara brightly responds. Lois snorts and Ollie laughs again while Jimmy’s cheeks turn bright red.

As she is about to sit down next to her cousin, Kara hears a rich, bass voice call her name. She turns and sees Bruce Wayne approaching their table.

“Hi Kara, good to see you again.” His full lips curve into a warm smile.

_It’s stupid how hot he is._

She rushes over to the beautiful man and suddenly isn’t sure whether to reach for a handshake or try for a hug. Or maybe go for a fist-bump?

_Fuck it._

Kara throws her arms around Bruce’s broad shoulders while he softly places his hands on her lower back. She rests her head on his well-defined, brawny chest and realizes that the skin-tight black t-shirt he is wearing is … very skin-tight. She quickly pulls away, not wanting to accidentally (or … maybe not so accidentally) feel up her cousin’s best friend.

“Uh, hi Bruce! Good to see you too.” She rubs her neck and probably _should_ stop talking, but instead she blurts out, “You look great.”

Bruce chuckles and calmly says, “Thanks. You’ve grown out your hair since you last visited! It’s such a pretty look on you.”

Kara really, _really_ tries not to blush at his words, but … she fails big time. Her cheeks turn rosy and she makes a noise that’s halfway between a giggle and a grunt.

“Uh, thanks, thank you, that’s real nice,” she mutters while desperately hoping she doesn’t say anything else weird. Luckily, Lois comes to her rescue.

“Hey Bruce!” she calls from the table. “Is Diana not joining us?”

“Unfortunately not today, she has Model UN.” Bruce turns to Kara and gestures toward his friends. “Shall we?” She nods enthusiastically and they join the group at their picnic table.

For the most part, the lunch period “hang out” goes well! Kara is asked a few questions and occasionally gets some laughs (primarily from Jimmy, who seems to react to practically everything Kara says by either laughing or blushing), but mostly she is a silent listener, observing her cousin’s friend group and trying to get a sense of how she might fit in - not just with Clark’s friends, but at Kirby High in general.

However, she is pulled away from her thoughts by Oliver, who asks, “So Kara, what was the move all about? Clark never told us.”

_Ah. Ok. Knew that question was coming … less sure of how to respond, though._

She puts down her sandwich and glances at her cousin, who looks nervous but gives her a soft smile, as if to say: _“it's up to you, whatever you’re comfortable with.”_

“Uh,” Kara begins, tentatively. “Welp, my parents kinda … they got divorced a few months ago. My dad left my mom and then she wanted to be closer to family so - here we are. We’re renting an apartment that’s near Clark’s place and she’s trying to find work here and … that’s pretty much the story!”

_'Cept for the part where my dad assaulted a girl on my basketball team - a close friend of mine, in fact. Except for that part._

“Ok. Gotcha,” Oliver slowly responds.

“I’m ... really sorry, about your parents, Kara, that sucks, I bet.” Kara weakly smiles at Jimmy’s attempt at kindness.

“Well, you should know that we’re all incredibly psyched that you’re here!” Lois grins at Kara and reaches past Clark to take her hand. “Finally - someone who can tease Smallville almost as well as I can.”

Kara laughs while Lois playfully nudges her boyfriend’s muscular arm a few times. Clark raises an eyebrow.

“You know, I left Kansas when I was 13, Lois. I’m not sure that nickname really fits, if anything it’d work better for Kara, she spent more of her life there than I-“

“Nah, it’s funnier if it’s you.” Lois leans in close and whispers, “You get all _flustered_ , Mr. Kent.” Clark blushes and focuses on finishing his PB&J sandwich.

Kara looks across the table and meets Bruce’s gaze; his blue eyes glisten in the sunlight, almost as if they’re brimming with tears. Kara is aware that he, more than anyone, knows what it's like to lose a parent. His smile to her is an empathetic one - an understanding, bitter-sweet smile that makes Kara feel decidedly less alone.

_I … think I actually might like Kirby High. It beats Smallville, at least._

A few moments of silence pass.

Suddenly, Oliver speaks again. “So … did you guys hear about Arthur’s party this weekend?”

* * *

(Damian’s POV)

Damian glances at the crowds of students joyfully congregating on the (lazily-named, in his opinion) “big lawn,” before quickly deciding that he will be eating his first high school lunch _alone_. The small boy with obsidian hair marches to the theatre building, believing that it will most likely be empty; he finds a vacant hallway, sits on the floor, leans against strangely comfortable lockers, and begins to eat the tofu dish his mother prepared for him.

_Tofu and rice in a thermos … not ideal. But far better than the corndogs and mashed potatoes they’re peddling in the cafeteria._

Damian almost gags at the thought of eating Kirby High’s so-called “hot lunch.” Considering how well-off the school is, he finds it strange that they don’t offer better culinary options.

_Perhaps they would, if they didn’t spend their considerable funds on … frivolities._

Damian notes how absurdly large the theatre building is and rolls his eyes. He wonders if Metropolis Academy uses their resources in more logical ways; surely the food _there_ is sublime!

_But it doesn’t matter, Damian. Because you didn’t get in. As mother always says: you’re going here now, best make the most of it._

Damian sighs and keeps eating; he tries to think about anything other than food, Kirby High, and the wonderful school that didn’t want him.

A few students walk by - drama kids, probably; they ramble about upcoming auditions and giggle about a party or something equally irrelevant. They ignore Damian entirely, not that he cares. He eats tofu and stares at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

Damian decides that he quite likes eating alone at lunch; he thinks he’ll keep up the tradition until graduation.

* * *


	4. Texting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few students at Kirby High School text during class. That's it. That's the plot. Enjoy!

* * *

(Pamela’s Phone)

_ 12:51 PM _

_harlequinn16 and 4 others like your post_

_Snapchat from selina_kyle_

_iMessage from “Harls :)”_

_Harls :)_ \- **Hiyaa foxy lady**

 _Me_ \- **hey stranger**

 _Harls :)_ \- **Miss youuu :)**

 _Me_ \- **you psycho i saw you like 20 minutes ago**

 _Harls :)_ \- **And? Your point is?**

 _Me_ \- **fair**

 _Me_ \- **of course i miss you too**

 _Harls :)_ \- **Pissed that I’m in boring sociology and NOT shopping!**

 _Harls :)_ \- **Pissed that you’re a NERD!**

 _Harls :)_ \- **Pissed that you hate me ;(**

 _Me_ \- **i very do not hate you**

 _Me_ \- **we can get swimsuits after school**

 _Harls :)_ \- **Sexy swimsuits?**

 _Me_ \- **obviously**

 _Harls :)_ \- **:)**

 _Harls :)_ \- **Guess what?**

 _Harls :) -_ **You look hot today ;)**

 _Me -_ **just today?**

 _Harls :) -_ **Obvs not just!!**

 _Harls :) -_ **But you look extra EXTRA hot today**

 _Me_ \- **haha well thanks babe**

 _Harls :) -_ **Also I was stalking your Insta and**

_Harls :) -_ **I friggin’ love your honkers**

 _Me_ \- **my what?**

 _Harls :) -_ **Your bazookas, your melons, your lovely coconuts**

 _Harls :) -_ **Your bongos!**

_Me -_ **wow**

 _Harls :) -_ **The dream team!**

 _Harls :) -_ **I’m trying to not be objectifying, I know you hate that**

 _Me -_ **sociology must be really really boring huh**

 _Harls :) -_ **Whatever. I love them**

 _Me -_ **uh huh**

 _Harls :) -_ **I love them!**

 _Me_ \- **i knowww you’re always staring**

 _Harls_ _:) -_ **The correct term is “ogling”**

 _Harls :) -_ **And no duh!**

_Harls :) -_ **I live to ogle you**

 _Harls :) -_ **I’m always ogling ;)**

 _Me -_ **ogle away my dear**

 _Harls :)_ \- **Deal!**

 _Me -_ **i probably should stop texting during AP Bio though**

 _Harls :) -_ **Fiiiiine fine ok I’m done**

 _Me_ \- **see you soon**

 _Me -_ **i love you**

 _Harls :) -_ **Love youuuu :)**

_ 1:02 PM  _

_iMessage from “Harls :)”_

_Harls :) -_ **Love your BUTT!!!!!!!!!**

 _Me -_ **dude lol**

 _Harls :) -_ **Ok NOW I’m done sorry**

_ 1:10 PM _

_iMessage from “Harls :)”_

_Harls :) -_ **Syllabus day suckssss**

 _Me -_ **Harley**

 _Harls :)_ \- **Sorry!!!!!**

 _Harls :) -_ **I’ll stop**

_Harls :) -_ **Love youuu**

 _Me -_ **love you too**

_ 1:15 PM _

_iMessage from “Harls :)”_

_Harls :) -_ **Would you raise hyenas with me?**

 _Me -_ **Harley.**

 _Harls :) -_ **Not nowww like when we’re 30!**

 _Me_ \- **Harley!**

_ 1:20 PM _

_iMessage from “Harls :)”_

_ 1:22 PM _

_iMessage from “Harls :)”_

_iMessage from “Harls :)”_

* * *

(Barbara’s Phone)

_ 1:43 PM _

_Text Message from “Dad”_

_Dad -_ **Hey Barbara! I’m sorry I got home so late yesterday and Movie Night didn’t happen … work’s been crazy recently. I practically sleep at the station. Anyway, I hope you’re having a great last first day! I’d love to take you and Selina out to dinner sometime to celebrate, maybe this weekend? So proud of you babe. -Jim**

 _Me -_ **Dad you don’t have to say “Jim” at the end of every text, like I know it’s you. And texts aren’t emails.**

 _Me -_ **But thank you! I’m sure Selina would say yes to a free meal lol.**

_ 1:48 PM _

_iMessage from “Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone)”_

_Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Heyyy whattya think of Hal Jordan?**

 _Me -_ **I don’t think about him, we’ve never spoken.**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Very literal answer Babs**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **That was code for “do you think he’s single”**

 _Me -_ **Ohhhh.**

 _Me -_ **Well again, don’t know him, but from what I’ve heard he doesn’t really “date.”**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **I see**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **He’s in my physics class**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **He’s sorta hot**

 _Me -_ **He seems like a douche tbh.**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **A hot douche**

 _Me -_ **I mean yeah. Want me to wingman or something at the party?**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **That ... could be interesting**

 _Me -_ **Is it wingwoman?**

 _Me -_ **Either way I’m theoretically down, though apologies in advance if I make a fool of myself.**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Stop that talk**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **We’re gonna have the bestest blast**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **I truly can’t wait**

 _Me_ \- **I’m tentatively excited too!**

 _Me -_ **Really though? Hal?**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **See this is why I don't tell you things**

 _Me -_ **Look if I’m going to wingwoman you with someone I would feel better if said someone actually deserved your awesomeness.**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Mmkay**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Open to suggestions**

 _Me -_ **Hmmm.**

 _Me_ \- **Well Arthur’s in my AP Lit class and he’s very attractive. Probably a player, but he’s always been friendly. And yeah he’s a hunk.**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **You did not just say “hunk”**

 _Me -_ **You know what I mean. He’s obviously not my type but he’s conventionally hot and he’s not a dick as far as I know.**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Yeahh jocks don’t do it for me**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Next**

 _Me_ \- **Ok ok.**

 _Me -_ **Lex lol? He’s the opposite of a jock.**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Um. No? The fuck?**

 _Me -_ **What? He’s like a genius and he’s got confidence!**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **How bout no jocks and no student council presidents**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **I’m begging you**

 _Me -_ **Ok ok ok!**

 _Me -_ **How about Bruce?**

 _Selina is typing …_

_Me -_ **He’s cute and he’s got that “bad boy” vibe but isn’t an actual asshole.**

 _Selina is typing …_

_Me -_ **For a while I thought he was dating Diana but I’m pretty sure they’re just close friends.**

_Selina is typing ..._

_Me -_ **And it sounded like he really helped you at that party last summer. That was kind. Kindness is a good thing Selina!**

 _Selina is da BOMB (srry stole ur phone) -_ **Class stuff is happening g** **tg**

 _Me -_ **Oh ok. See ya soon!**

_ 1:55 PM _

_Text Message from “Dad”_

_Dad -_ **Sorry! Won’t happen again. -Not Jim**

 _Me -_ **… cute dad.**

* * *

(Rachel’s Phone)

_ 2:20 PM _

_Snapchat from koryanders14_

_ 2:25 PM _

_Snapchat from koryanders14_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_ 2:28 PM _

_Snapchat from koryanders14_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_ 2:34 PM _

_Snapchat from koryanders14_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_ 2:36 PM _

_Snapchat from koryanders14_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_garfieldthebeast liked your post_

_ 2:37 PM _

_Snapchat from koryanders14_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_iMessage from “Gar…”_

_garfieldthebeast liked your post_

_garfieldthebeast liked your post_

_garfieldthebeast liked your post_

_Garfield Logan liked your status_

_garfieldthebeast liked your post_

_garfieldthebeast liked your post_

_garfieldthebeast liked your post_

_garfieldthebeast liked your post_

_Me_ \- **What do you want?!?**

 _Gar… -_ **Dude!!! You’re alive!**

 _Me -_ **“Dude” you’re a dumbass. What?!**

 _Gar… -_ **Sorry lol, was worried about ya**

 _Gar… -_ **Didya get my texts?**

 _Me -_ **I’m in class, spit it out! Quickly.**

 _Gar… -_ **Sheesh**

 _Gar… -_ **Aight!**

 _Gar… -_ **Be chill, be chill**

 _Gar… -_ **It’s all good**

 _Me -_ **GAR! What is it?!**

 _Gar… -_ **So there’s this partayyy on Friday**

 _Gar… -_ **And Vic is tryna go**

 _Gar… -_ **But I think Kory and Dick are gonna stay in**

 _Gar… -_ **#** **loserz**

 _Gar… -_ **And I was wonderinnn what your plan was?**

 _Gar… -_ **Rae?**

 _Me -_ **Idk yet**

 _Gar… -_ **Ok! For sure**

 _Me -_ **Yeah idk**

 _Me -_ **Are you going?**

 _Gar… -_ **Uh I think so!**

 _Gar… -_ **It sounds fun**

 _Gar… -_ **It’d be pretty neat if you went too, but all good**

 _Gar -_ **All good either way my dude!**

 _Me -_ **Well**

 _Me -_ **I shall think about it**

 _Me -_ **Now I have to get back to the class that I’m in and currently texting during so goodbye please and thanks**

 _Gar… -_ **Sweet!!**

 _Gar… -_ **Sure sure**

 _Gar… -_ **Enjoy! :)**

 _Gar… -_ **Class it up Rae Rae**

 _Gar… -_ **Class all dayyyy**

 _Me -_ **I hate you.**

* * *

(Victor’s Phone)

_ 2:41 PM _

_karenbee3 and 14 others like your post_

_garfieldthebeast commented “Dude!! You’re sexy!” on your post_

_iMessage from “Garfield the Cat”_

_Garfield the Cat -_ **Yo Rae’s in!**

 _Me -_ **Huh**

 _Garfield the Cat -_ **Arthur’s Party? She is dowwwn**

 _Me -_ **Oh nice!**

 _Garfield the Cat -_ **Hells yeah dude it’s gonna be lit!**

 _Me -_ **Let’s hope so**

 _Garfield the Cat -_ **Wanna get some alchie later?**

 _Me -_ **You gotta stop calling it that**

 _Garfield the Cat -_ **What?**

 _Me -_ **It’s so stupid**

 _Garfield the Cat -_ **It’s alchie baby!**

 _Me -_ **Gross. Makes me feel like I’m about to drink with a Teletubby**

 _Garfield the Cat -_ **I mean**

 _Garfield the Cat -_ **I’ll stop calling it alchie when you give me the moped ;)**

 _Me -_ **And that wraps up this convo**

 _Garfield the Cat -_ **Dude!!!**

* * *

(Kara’s Phone)

_ 3:01 PM _

_Missed Call from 19144037437_

_iMessage from 19144037437_

_19144037437 -_ **Shoot didn’t mean to call!**

 _19144037437 -_ **Hi Kara! This is Jimmy**

 _19144037437 -_ **Sorry about calling lol**

 _19144037437 -_ **But yeah you gave us your number and this is me number so now you know and feel free to use it whenever or if you feel like it! Ok that’s it ttyl!**

 _19144037437 -_ ***my number**

 _19144037437_ \- **Not “me number”**

 _19144037437_ **\- Sorry lol**

 _Me -_ **Haha thanks Jimmy**

 _Me -_ **It was cool getting to meet ya today!**

_ 3:05 PM _

_iMessage from 13166690876_

_13166690876 -_ **Kara, it’s your Dad. I’m staying at Fred’s place - this is his phone. I miss you sweetie. Please tell your mom to call me. I love you both, I just want to talk.**

 _Me -_ **Stay the fuck away from us.**

 _Me -_ **You’re not my dad.**

 _Me -_ **Do not contact me again. I will call the police.**

_ 3:07 PM _

_iMessage from “Jimmy”_

_Jimmy -_ **Yeah same definitely! Hope your first day’s going well! :)**

* * *

(Arthur’s Phone)

_ 3:09 PM _

_Clark Kent, John Stewart, and 49 others like your post in “Senior Year Pool Party”_

_Snapchats from queenmera, ormisthenorm, and 2 others_

_iMessage from “Mom”_

_Mom -_ **Our flight is early Friday morning so we’ll be leaving around 6:30. You’ll have the car for school, swim practice, emergencies, etc. There should be enough food but if you need groceries your father will leave you some cash. We’ll be back the following Tuesday - around 8 pm. You can have friends over, but you have to clean up after yourself.**

 _Me -_ **Yeah no worries!**

 _Me -_ **I’m having a small gathering Friday night, but it’ll be chill**

 _Me -_ **Just a few guys, real low-key**

 _Me -_ **No biggie!**

_3:11 PM_

_Ralph Dibny, Clark Kent, and 50 others like your post in “Senior Year Pool Party”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the party! Thanks for reading as always!


	5. The Pregame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Arthur Curry's much-anticipated pool party has arrived!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! Been working on this for a while. Hope you enjoy! Content warning: underage drinking.

* * *

(Kara’s POV)

Kara’s first week at Kirby High passes in a flash. The lunches are sunny, the classes are dull, and dodgeball is consistently entertaining.

On Friday, Kara and “the Titans” finally defeat their obnoxious, hyper-masculine, middling IQ-level opponents, with Kara finishing the game as the last woman standing. Before leaving the gymnasium, she asks one of her teammates (a scrawny kid that she recently found out is inexplicably named after a certain lasagna-loving cat) about the origin of his friend group’s unusual nickname.

“It’s a long story, Karizzle!” Garfield responds with a mischievous grin. “I’ll tell ya all about it at the party tonight! You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. We’ll bond. It’ll be lit, get hype my dude!” And with a wink and a fist-bump, the green-haired jokester departs, barreling toward the locker rooms, leaving Kara with raised eyebrows and a smirk on her lips.

_Right … "the party."_

Arthur Curry’s upcoming pool party has been the “talk of the town” (or the school) for days. Phrases have been thrown around like “mind-blowing” and “rage-tastic” and “no-doubt-will-be-the-best-night-of-my-entire-life-for-realsies-not-even-lying-like-I’m-shook.” Kara still doesn’t get what all the fuss is about.

 _Guess these “gifted kids” must not get out much, huh?_

But her cousin is quick to correct her as they are leaving Kirby High that afternoon.

“Arthur’s parties are like a meteor shower,” Clark begins. “They only come around every once in a while, but when they do, you don’t want to miss ‘em. They’re wild, explosive, and kinda wonderful! And there’s always a slight chance of some horrible catastrophe leaving a massive crater where the town used to be.”

“Solid analogy, ‘cuz.” He grins at her remark while pushing his glasses further onto his nose. 

“It’s a skill of mine!”

As they reach the parking lot, a sharp voice penetrates the air and Clark stops dead in his tracks.

“Kent!”

Kara notices her cousin’s body tense up and his fingers twitch, and yet he forces a bright smile as they both turn to face the voice’s origin: a besuited, slender young man - with rage in his eyes - approaching them quickly.

“Hi Lex. How are you?” Clark’s tone is well-mannered and clearly well-practiced. “This is my cousin, Kar-”

“Yes, hello. Care to explain this?” Lex waves a newspaper in the taller man’s face. 

“Well, it looks like a copy of the school newspaper,” Clark responds, still polite yet slightly strained. “I could explain what a ‘newspaper’ is, Lex, but I think a dictionary would do just as fine a job.” Kara snorts and giggles (probably louder than she should). 

_Was that some sass from Mr. Nice Guy? I’m impressed._

Lex, however, is decidedly less impressed. He scowls at Clark for a few moments, but then suddenly (and rather frighteningly, in Kara’s opinion), his lips form an eerie smile.

“Clever, Mr. Kent. You may not be aware, but I am in fact an avid reader of _The Kirby Chronicle_. Particularly Ms. Lane’s opinion pieces - so chock-full of wit and … derision.” He flips through some pages while staring daggers at Clark. “Take her most recent work: ‘Lionel Luthor - the People’s Politician, or Wall Street’s?’” 

Clark rubs his eyes and sighs. “Lex, I’m … I’m sorry, it wasn’t-”

“‘Governor Luthor’s campaign promise to put the working-class people of New York state ‘first’ has turned out to be as phoney as his toupee,’” Lex continues through gritted teeth. “‘During his inaugural term as governor, he has worked to overturn laws protecting unions, abolish environmentalist policies, and cut funding to educational institutions.’” 

“Lex, it-”

“That last little jab is my personal favorite.” Lex suddenly turns to face Kara and probing jade eyes stare into her soul. 

_Kay. Don’t like this._

“Some trivia for you, new kid: this past summer, a sizable donation from my father led to the refurbishment of Kirby’s cafeteria and auditorium.” Lex turns back to sneer at Clark. “Last I checked, Kirby High is an ‘educational institution.’ But Ms. Lane doesn’t mention that little selfless act, now does she? Or the fact that he recently purchased a massive jumbotron for the football team - isn’t that right, quarterback?”

“Since you seem so familiar with our latest edition,” Clark coolly responds, his calm facade faltering. “You must know that we also provided an opposing viewpoint that supports Governo-”

“Yes, written by a sophomore. How quaint. Lois Lane, for whatever reason, is the editor-in-chief-”

“Of a _school_ newspaper!” Clark’s voice rises and he matches Lex’s fierce glare. 

_Low-key are they about to fight? Is this really happening?_

“What are you so afraid of?” Clark continues with clenched fists. “That your dad’s constituents will be swayed by … what? A high-schooler’s opinion piece?! If after three years in office they still aren’t clued-in, I really doubt _The Kirby Chronicle_ will have much effect!”

The two adversaries fume in silence for a few moments. Kara starts to think Lex may actually try to punch Clark in the face. She mentally prepares herself to defend her cousin and, if need be, kick the living crap out of his potential assailant.

_Nothing personal, guy. You just seem like a dick and I kinda hate dicks. It’s a weird quirk of mine._

However, instead of resorting to fisticuffs, Lex simply whispers, “I like your little newspaper, Clark. Don’t change my mind.” He swiftly turns and marches off. Kara’s cousin stares after him for some time, fists slowly unclenching and eyes indicating something between loathing and sympathy. 

After a few tense moments of silence, Kara whistles and says, “Wow. What a douche. Is it just me, or did you also expect him to laugh maniacally before leaving?” Her joke coaxes a small chuckle from Clark’s lips; he shakes his head and smiles at her.

“C’mon,” he says. “We’ve got a party to prepare for!”

“Seriously,” she continues while they walk. “I’m pretty sure he’s a real-life supervillain.”

* * *

(Hal’s POV)

“Whattya think?” Hal asks.

Barry stands in his doorway and smiles while giving his best friend the once-over. Hal’s outfit consists of green swim trunks, sunglasses, his signature leather jacket, and little else; he is shirtless, shoeless, and fucks-to-be-given-less.

“A tad overdressed, actually,” Barry dryly responds. 

Hal doesn’t miss a beat. “Agreed. Should I lose the sunglasses or the jacket?”

“Hm. Choices, choices.” Barry pretends to seriously consider this while leaning against the doorframe. “Well, what are you going for?”

“I’d say: raw sexual magnetism.” Hal runs a hand through his messy hair and grins cheekily. “Or something.” 

Barry shrugs and casually remarks, “Then lose the trunks.”

An unexpected and unwelcome warmth invades Hal’s cheeks; he finds that he’s at a loss for words - which is rare for him, particularly while exchanging witty banter. Barry is smirking and his eyes are full of mischief. 

_Get a grip Jordan, he’s teasing you. That’s all._

Hal quickly (and lamely) tries to recover with, “Ha! You wish, loser.” 

Barry does not disagree; instead, he shyly smiles and turns to head back inside his house. Hal takes a deep breath and attempts to reestablish his ever-aloof presence before following his best friend inside.

_Yep. Best friends. That’s what we are. So chill out._

Barry mentions that he still needs to change before they can leave and quickly heads upstairs. Hal shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and looks around; he doesn’t see Barry’s parents, but he does notice that Iris is sitting in the living room, watching _Queer Eye_ on her laptop with her headphones in.

_… does she just live at his house now?_

Not wanting to be rude (or, rather, knowing that _Barry_ wouldn’t want him to be rude), Hal awkwardly wanders into the living room and waves at Iris to get her attention. She smiles brightly and closes her laptop.

“Oh, hi Hal! Hi!” She waves back.

“Yeah, uh, what’s up?”

“Just chilling. Gonna have a little night-in with Barry’s folks, I think we might bake together!”

_Weird._

“Cool! Very cool.”

She nods so enthusiastically that Hal worries her head might pop off. 

“Yeah! Are you, uh, excited for the party? I, um …” She glances at his outfit and a mixture of amusement and confusion paints her face. “I’m .. liking your look! It’s super confident and stuff, ya know? Really out there. I admire that!”

“Uh, thanks.” Hal fiddles with his emerald ring while trying to make conversation. “But it’s a pool party, so this is kinda the norm.” 

“Oh.” Iris’ smile fades and a look of concern furrows her brow. “I didn’t know it was … so most people show up like that? Without shirts and stuff?”

“Uh, again … it’s a pool party. So yeah.” Hal’s slightly curt response prompts Iris to gaze at her feet and fiddle with her skirt. He sighs and gently says, ”I’m guessing Barry hasn’t told you all that much about this lil' shindig, huh?”

“I haven’t really asked, I don’t want … it’s good for him to get out and see people, see you, and I …” Iris seems to be struggling to form words; her grip on her skirt tightens. After a few moments, she continues, albeit in a hushed voice. “I don’t want him to miss out on things for _me_ , ya know? And I don’t want him to be worrying about whatever I’m dealing with when he should be out having fun! I want to be … _cool_ , like a cool girlfriend, ya know, who’s totally down with all this partying stuff, even if …” 

“... even if you’re not?”

Iris looks up at Hal and practically whispers, “I’m just a little nervous, is all. I really care about him.” 

Hal’s gaze softens at her unexpectedly vulnerable reply. 

_Yeah. We have that in common._

“I get that. Um, I’ll be honest, Arthur’s parties are … they get pretty wild, or they have, in the past, I don’t know if …” Iris’ concerned expression intensifies, and Hal mentally chastises himself for not simply lying to her. He clears his throat and tries to speak with more confidence. “But, look, he’ll … he’ll be fine, ok? I promise. We’ll show up, have a few laughs, a few drinks … we’ll keep it real low-key. I’ll have him home by 10 o’clock.”

Iris laughs and smiles warmly; there’s a simple beauty to her smile, Hal notices.

_No wonder he likes her._

Quite suddenly, a _feeling_ starts to build in the pit of Hal’s stomach. It’s painful. It’s sharp. It’s strange yet familiar. It’s either indigestion or jealousy, he decides. Hal settles on the former, since the latter would mean … it would just be way too … much.

_We’re best friends. Always have been. Best friends._

“Thanks, Hal,” she says. “But obviously you don’t have to … I mean, 10 is-”

“I was kidding.”

“Gotcha!” Iris nods approximately one-thousand times. “Right, well I … thank you, for what you said. I appreciate it! Really.”

“Appreciate what now?” 

Hal and Iris turn to face Barry, who is walking down the stairs. He is wearing a bright yellow, Spongebob-themed swimsuit and a red shirt.

Hal smirks. “Nice trunks, Squarepants.”

“Shut up,” Barry groans. “They’re from when I was like 13, they’re all I have.”

“They barely fit.”

“They’re all I have!”

“I like them!” Iris sweetly quips. “They’re cute!”

Hal’s smirk grows into a full-blown snarky grin. “Oh yeah, _real_ cute. Maybe we should stop at Target and buy some floaties? You know, to complete the image?”

Barry playfully scowls. “Hilarious.”

“Or a t-shirt with Patrick’s big pink face on it?”

“I’m ignoring you!” Barry pointedly smiles broadly at Iris and says, “I’ll text you when we get there, yeah?”

Iris smiles back and stands up to kiss him. Hal watches and that … _feeling_ comes back; he tries to ignore it.

“Or maybe a tattoo on your ass that says ‘Firmly Grasp It’?” 

Iris breaks away from the kiss and snorts loudly, before quickly covering her mouth, clearly embarrassed; Barry just stares at Hal incredulously, a mixture of amusement and shock painted across his face. 

“... what?” Hal’s expression is a picture of innocence.

Barry shakes his head in mock disapproval yet smiles in spite of himself.

“You’re such an idiot,” Barry jokes.

_You have no idea._

Hal continues to pester Barry with Spongebob-related jibes as they head to the party, all while ignoring the unwelcome yet unyielding _feeling_ growing in the deepest regions of his soul. 

* * *

(Barbara’s POV)

“ _TURN AROUND BRIGHT EYES_!” 

Harley sings - or screams - at the top of her lungs while prancing about her basement; she holds a microphone in one hand and a half-empty bottle of tequila in the other. Barbara and Selina, meanwhile, watch the comically over-the-top performance while lounging on a dilapidated sofa. 

_Drunk karaoke is actually … not terrible._

Selina - who is clad in a pink bathrobe that somewhat covers her skimpy bikini - sips red wine while Barbara - who has disguised her one-piece bathing suit beneath a tank top, a jacket, and high-waisted jean shorts - finishes off her third can of lemon-flavored seltzer; Selina observes this and smirks maniacally.

“Woah, Babs, take it slow,” she purrs. “That’s, what, your third or fourth? And we haven’t even left yet!” 

“Ha ha, Selina. They happen to be very healthy - free of sugar _and_ alcohol!” Barbara raises the empty can in the air to accentuate her point. 

Selina bursts into a fit of wine-induced giggles and says, “You’re such a _nerd_ ! Who even drinks … it’s basically water that a lemon farted in. _So_ appealing.”

“It is, actually! It’s-”

“ _TURN AROUND_!”

Harley is suddenly in Barbara’s face, loudly belting “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and jumping on the sofa.

“Jesus, ok, um …” Barbara scoots closer to Selina while Harley crawls toward them both. “Personal space, apparently, isn’t-”

“ _BRIGHT EYES_!” Harley is now practically straddling Barbara, who is fully pressed up against Selina, who is, in turn, cackling like a Disney villain. Harley takes a long swig from her tequila bottle before tossing it onto the floor.

“ _Every now and then I fall apart_!” Her voice softens and she dramatically stretches out her arms toward Barbara and Selina. “Join me, my loves!”

_Well … this took a turn._

“Harley, uh, thanks for the offer, but, uh,” Barbara stammers. “Well, singing really, um, isn’t-”

Thankfully, Selina pulls Harley’s attention away from Barbara by reaching over the redhead to take Harley’s hands in her own. Barbara shrinks into the couch while the two inebriated women harmonize and sway to the music.

“ _Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I’m only falling apart_!” 

_Hm. They actually don’t sound that bad._

Entirely out of the blue, Harley screams, “ _NOTHING I CAN SAY, TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART_!” Barbara almost has a heart-attack, while Selina bursts into uproarious laughter. 

_Never mind._

As the song ends, Harley and Selina collapse onto the sofa in fits of giggles; Barbara can’t help but smile, despite the fact that they are still practically on top of her and smushing her into the cushions.

“You guys are goofy,” Harley drawls while playing with one of her pigtails.

“And _you_ are drunky!” Selina giggles at her dumb joke; Barbara rolls her eyes.

_You should talk, Selina._

Harley puffs out her lips in a dramatic pout. “Am not!”

“Am _are_!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Drunky!”

“Nope!”

“DRUNKY!”

“NOPE!” Harley scowls at Selina, before suddenly smiling and chuckling to herself. “But if I was in _Snow White_ , I’d be Drunky!”

“... what?!” Barbara and Selina respond almost simultaneously.

“You know, there’s Sleepy, Angry, Dopey, Ugly-”

“There’s no ‘Ugly.’ That’s not one of them,” Barbara says, matter-of-factly.

“Well I’d be Drunky!” Harley proudly puts her hands on her hips and puffs out her chest.

“I’ll say.” The trio turns to face Pamela, who has wandered into the basement and is examining Harley’s discarded tequila bottle. “Was this all you?”

Harley nods slowly while presenting her lover with a devilish smirk. “Aren’t you proud of me, darling?”

Pamela smiles - blushing a bit - but then shrugs, before bringing the bottle to her lips for a swig or two of her own.

“You missed quite the performance, Pammie,” Selina remarks while finishing off her glass of wine. “A duet for the ages. Babs was in tears. Truly.”

Barbara grunts while trying to reposition herself on the couch; Selina wraps an arm around her and the two settle into a familiar, platonic cuddle.

“Oh yeah …” Harley’s smile vanishes and she glares at Pamela with folded arms and pouting lips. “ _You_ were supposed to sing with me! You promised!” 

Pamela arches a thin eyebrow and says, “I for sure did not.”

“Yeah huh!” Harley jumps off of the couch and marches over to her girlfriend; Barbara thinks she looks like an angry puppy dog. “Remember, ‘cause I was like: ‘we gotta sing together,’ and you were like: ‘nah,’ but then I was like: ‘don’t you _love_ me’, and you were like: ‘nah’-”

“Isn’t the party happening now-ish?” Barbara quietly asks Selina after checking her phone. “Should we go, or …?”

Selina stretches her arms like a restless kitten and fixes Barbara with a grin. “The question is: are we fashionably late _enough_?”

“Uh … how late is fashionable?”

“How fashionable is late?!” Selina giggles at her nonsensical reply and Barbara just shakes her head.

_This is why I drink seltzer._

Her eyes drift back to the bickering couple (though the “bickering” is mostly one-sided, Barbara notes).

“-and then I was like: ‘it’s a great song,’ and you were like: ‘nah,’ and I was like: ‘stop saying that, learn a new word,’ and that’s when I threw that dictionary at you, remember, and then you were like … wait, is that what you’re wearing?!”

“Oh, um.” Pamela shrugs. “Random, but yeah? Why?”

Harley’s gaze is suddenly fixed to her girlfriend’s silk, emerald robe. Her demeanor completely changes - her eyes soften and she bites her lip - as she leans in close to whisper something into Pamela’s ear. The red-head’s smirk vanishes and her cheeks redden; Harley giggles mischievously while pulling away. Silence.

Barbara breaks the tension with, “... so, what’s the plan? Are we going soon, or-?”

“ _Yes_ , go, _going_ , we should go, gotta go!” Harley nods several times before turning back to face Pamela. They gaze at one another. Harley quickly turns back to Barbara and Selina. “Actually, give us five, kay?” She grabs her girlfriend’s arm and whisks her out of the room. Their laughter echoes throughout the hallways as they rush upstairs.

Selina rolls her eyes. “Figures.”

Barbara releases a nervous chuckle and says, “They’ve, uh, done this before, I take it?”

“Mmhm. But hey, this time I’ve got company!” Selina bumps Barbara’s shoulder with her fist and they share a smile.

“Happy to help. So what’s the protocol? Do we wait-“

“Yeah, we will not be seeing them for the rest of the night.” Selina is suddenly on her feet and checking her phone. “Ready?” 

_Right. Ok. Party time._

“Uh, ok, so we’re going? Now? We’re … ok, cool. Solid.” Barbara stands slowly and shoves her hands in her pockets. “Solid solid.”

Selina stares at her quizzically. “You nervous?”

“Um. No. Maybe? No. Is that weird, if I am-”

“ _Such_ a nerd,” Selina says with a friendly laugh. “‘Course it’s not weird. I get nervous too, sometimes, or … whatever.”

_Yeah, ok Selina._

“Somehow I really doubt that.” 

Selina shrugs (uncharacteristically sheepishly, in Barbara’s opinion). “Suit yourself.”

“It’s just that, well, you’re like a party aficionado, and I’m … _me_.” Barbara reminds herself to stop anxiously picking at her nails. “I don’t know. Is it weird? Do people even want me th-”

“Hey.” Selina rests both hands on her best friend’s tensed-up shoulders. “Fuck people. I want you there. _I_ do. And I’m the only people that matter. You’re fun and smart and surprisingly grumpy for a 17 year old and I _love_ it, and anyone with any fucking brains will love it too. You deserve this, Babs.”

“... I’m grumpy?”

“ _That’s_ what you got from … ok, whatever. You coming or what?” Selina doesn’t wait for a reply before sauntering out of the basement. Barbara sighs but doesn’t hesitate to quickly catch up to her friend.

“Thanks for saying that stuff. Even though this is all somewhat anxiety-inducing, I am … really glad you invited me.” Barbara softly smiles at Selina as they walk. “That wasn’t very grumpy, now was it?”

“Nerd.”

* * *

(Victor’s POV)

“Do you guys ever think about Cupid?”

The three friends walk quietly through a dimly lit suburb while Garfield waits for a response. He doesn’t get one.

“... hello? Y’all alive? I said do you ever think-”

“No clue what you’re talking about, dude,” Victor finally replies.

“As per usual,” Rachel grumbles. 

_Ha. True._

Victor nudges Rachel appreciatively and she wryly smiles in return.

Garfield rolls his eyes but continues, clearly determined. “Hilarious, you guys. But seriously! I’m being serious … like, whatever happened to that dude?”

“What ‘dude,’ dude?” 

“Dude, you seriously don’t … seriously, dude?! Dude!”

Rachel groans. “If one more person says ‘dude’ …” 

“Du … ugh, ok, he’s … he’s Cupid!” Garfield’s tone is hilariously exasperated; Victor almost laughs. “The singer, the guy who … he did ‘Cupid Shuffle’? Ya know - ‘ _to the right, to the right, now kick, now kick, now walk it by yourself_ -’” 

_This guy is really about to sing the entire damn song._

“‘ _-now walk it by yourself, now_ -”

“Yep. Rachel and I also suffered through middle school dances.”

“Ok, well, that’s him then! That’s the du … the _guy_ , the person!” Garfield raises an eyebrow at Rachel. “Better?”

She raises one right back. “Marginally.” 

“Why though?” Victor questions. “Why Cupid? Why bring him up? ‘Why’ to this whole interaction, actually?” 

Garfield shrugs. “Dunno. Guess I feel bad for him … dude makes one lit song and then just vanishes off the face of the Earth. No one cares. Or remembers. Sucks.”

Victor and Rachel share a bewildered look, before Victor slowly replies with, “Uh, sure. Sucks.”

“A real tragedy, Gar,” Rachel soothes, with a hint (or two) of sarcasm in her voice.

The spiky-haired boy glares at his friends. “ _Hilarious_ , once again. Real masters of comedy. You guys know he auditioned for _The Voice_ in 2012, and didn’t get chosen? Like, at all, not even past round one?! That sucks! Dude will only ever be known for one thing - ‘Cupid fucking Shuffle’ - and that’s kinda dark, so sorry for caring! Forgive me for ever talking, I’ll just shut up!”

“That a promise?” Rachel smirks while presenting Garfield with a challenging stare. He returns it, while a small smile tugs at his lips.

“Nah. You’d miss me too much!”

Rachel snorts. “Doubtful.”

“Truthful!”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love it!”

“Nope.”

“Mmhm!”

“Ugh.”

_… you know when you’re hanging with people and you’re the third-wheel but they aren’t even dating?_

While his “totally not dating” friends banter (or flirt, or fight, or … something), Victor checks his phone and sees a message from Orm - a fellow student council member and Arthur Curry’s brother.

“ **Yo Vic, coming to the party tonight?** ”

“ **Yep! On the way now** ”

“ **Cool. Coming alone?** ” 

Victor glances at his friends and smiles before typing his response.

“ **I’m with Rachel and Garfield, we’re all real excited!** ”

“ **Gotcha. I know Arthur said everyone could bring a few plus-ones but turns out basically the entire senior class is coming tonight, so we’re gonna have to put a cap on this probably. Obviously you’re still welcome!** ”

_… but they aren’t? Cool dude._

Victor’s brow furrows as he stares at his phone; he considers not responding at all, then thinks a passive-aggressive reply is justified, and then decides on a straight-up _aggressive_ -aggressive response when a familiar raspy voice gets his attention.

“You okay, Vic?” Rachel asks.

He looks up at his friends, both staring at him with slight concern in their eyes. Both dressed unconventionally. Both varying degrees of socially awkward (one loud and obnoxious, one stand-offish and cynical). Both significantly less popular than him. 

_“Obviously you’re still welcome!"_

Victor shoves his phone into his pocket.

_Fuck that._

“Yeah, all good! Now let’s hurry it up. Sooner we get to Arthur’s, sooner I get to kick Gar’s butt in beer pong!”

“Think again, dude! I’ll be a lil’ busy _skinny dipping_!” Garfield wiggles his eyebrows and releases a childish cackle. Rachel, as expected, rolls her eyes, but Victor notices the tiniest bit of scarlet now coloring her pale cheeks. He smiles to himself, and keeps smiling throughout the rest of their walk, all while listening to the hilarious bickering of two of his closest friends.

At some point, Garfield says, “So like, at the party … you think they’ll play ‘Cupid Shuffle’?”

* * *

(Billy’s POV)

“You’re _dead_!”

“No, _you_!”

“Done. You’re _done_!”

“You’re done!”

“I’m gonna fricking eat your head, Billy.”

“What does … what-”

“It’s a saying. Also - you’re _done_!”

“No, _you_! You’re done!”

“Dead. Super dead.”

“Done. Over!”

“Fricking eat you, man.”

“Eat _you_!”

“Done.”

“Dead!”

“Over!”

“I win!” Eugene calmly proclaims. 

_… wait, what?!_

Billy and Freddy watch in horror as their characters burst into flames; the unsettling words “Game Over” pop onto the screen, and the leaderboard shows that Eugene Choi did indeed get the most kills. They glare at him.

“... rematch?” Eugene offers.

“Didn’t realize we were using _incendiary rounds_ , Eugene!” Freddy snarls while tossing his controller across the room.

Billy snorts. “As if _you_ were gonna win anyway, Freddy.”

“I had almost as many kills as you!”

“Keyword: almost.”

“Keyword: eat your head!”

“That’s not a saying … ah, what the heck?! Stop!”

Freddy starts aggressively tickling Billy while repeatedly shouting: “Eat your head, dude! Eat it like CREAM CHEESE!”

Billy struggles against Freddy’s assault - half-giggling, half-screaming for his life. “Eugene! Help! He’s lost it!”

Eugene coolly responds with, “If only I had incendiary rounds and a shotgun …”

Billy and Freddy’s tickle-war continues until a familiar whistle gets their attention. The three adolescents turn to face their older foster sister - Mary Bromfield.

“Hey! Listen up, guys! I’m headed to a party with some friends for the rest of the night. That means Eugene’s in charge.”

“Works for me,” Eugene smugly replies.

Freddy clears his throat and offers Mary a sickeningly sweet smile.

_Gross._

“You know Mary, I’m technically the oldest here - _almost_ 15, so really-”

Billy swats Freddy’s arm and glares at him. “Shut it, idiot.”

“ _You’re_ the id-”

“Hey!” Mary shouts. “Eugene’s in charge! That’s the deal. There’s money for pizza on the kitchen table. Billy has my number if there’s an emergency. And, like, just … please don’t burn down the place. Please. Mom and dad will kill me.” 

“Don’t worry, Mary! I’ll keep things on lock-down,” Freddy says with a wink. “I’ve got that _maturity_ , ya know, so-”

Billy swats Freddy’s arm again, harder this time. “Idiot.”

“ _You_!”

“No _you_!”

“Ok, I’m done. Later dummies! Try not to kill each other.” Mary waves half-heartedly before leaving.

Once the door closes behind her, Billy glares at Freddy. “Your lil’ crush is weird, dude, she’s our sister.”

“It’s not a ‘crush,’ idiot!” Freddy quickly retorts. “She’s just cool is all. And it’s not like we’re related, I didn’t even grow up with her! I’m just that cool mysterious kid who lives down the hall … can’t help it if there’s tension!”

_…?! What?!_

“What ‘tension,’ idiot?!”

“ _You’re_ the-“

“Cool that she’s going to a party,” Eugene remarks while casually scrolling through Reddit on his phone. “I bet it’s at Arthur Curry’s place. Heard they can get pretty wild.”

Billy and Freddy stare at Eugene with curiosity in their eyes. Freddy speaks first. “Um. Wild how?”

Eugene shrugs. “I’ve only heard some rumors. Apparently he has a pool.”

“So, they just swim and stuff?” Billy questions.

“I’m sure there’s drinking and dancing and … other things.” Freddy looks to Eugene for further answers, but he simply shrugs again.

“Huh.” Billy imagines himself at one of these parties; he’s surrounded by people he doesn’t know - mostly upperclassmen, he’s holding a bottle of cream soda, he’s standing awkwardly next to Freddy and Eugene, he’s wearing a corny swimsuit, and he’s shirtless. 

“Yeah, I don’t know …”

The three boys sit in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

“... so rematch?” Eugene offers again.

Billy smiles. “Absolutely!”

“You guys are _done_!” Freddy scrambles across the room to grab his controller. “I mean it this time!”

“Yeah, whatever idiot.”

“No, _y_ _ou_!”

“Idiot!"

“Eat. Your. Fricking. Head!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big party chapter should be out real soon! Thanks for your patience and thanks as always for reading!


	6. The Pool Party, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing. Drinking. Planning. Flirting. Angst. More drinking. Welcome to Arthur Curry's Pool Party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry about the hiatus!!! I've been super busy applying to law schools/studying for the LSAT, but no worries, I love this fic and I definitely have not stopped working on it!
> 
> Shout-out to my girlfriend Bekah for the AMAZING drawing of Selina and Barbara!
> 
> Content warning: underage drinking.

* * *

(Selina’s POV)

Selina would never call herself a “nice person.” Sarcastic? Absolutely. Respectful? On occasion. Compassionate? Sure, if it’s deserved. But _nice_? Nice is just so … so … 

_Boring._

A “nice person,” for instance, would probably make a point of always respecting her best friend’s privacy; she would never _dream_ of, say, craftily using her peripheral vision to get a glimpse of said best friend’s phone, thereby seeing the Instagram photo she’s been staring at for an embarrassingly long time. A photo of Diana Prince, no less, looking as beguilingly beautiful as ever.

_Babs, sweetie, you’re so predictable._

Selina’s known all about Barbara’s crush for years; she suspected _something_ when they were freshmen, and the redheaded introvert finally revealed her feelings (after weeks of tireless prodding, on Selina’s part) during their sophomore year. However, Barbara was adamant about _not_ pursuing anything, since Diana was “clearly out of her league” and the smarter choice would be to promptly “move on.” Selina, naturally, voiced her disapproval.

_“... ‘out of your league’?”_

_“Selina, just-”_

_“You’re funny.”_

_“Just listen-”_

_“That bland, vanilla-flavored, boring pixie dream girl?”_

_“She isn’t … using ‘bland’ and ‘boring’ is redundant-”_

_“She should be begging you for a date-”_

_“-also she’s not boring!”_

_“-on her hands and knees. Begging.”_

_“Selina!”_

But Barbara’s stubbornness won out. And so, in theory, she has spent the last two years doing the “smarter” thing - moving on. In _theory_. Of course, the soft blushes, the longing gazes, the stuttering denials whenever Selina brings it up … they tell a different story. Selina is fairly sure that her best friend still harbors secret feelings for the glamazonian princess, though she has yet to make (what could even generously be called) a _move_ (or say more than an occasional “hello” while passing in the hallway). It’s rather infuriating - almost four years of painful, passionate pining, and still, by their senior year, zero progress has been made. 

_Well, Babs. That changes tonight._

Because Selina’s not a “nice” friend. But she is a good one. She thinks.

So after a few more moments of quietly walking side-by-side with her companion, Selina (cautiously) begins with, “May I … _suggest_ something?”

Barbara looks at her, eyebrow raised and smirk fully formed. “Sure, though I doubt a resolute ‘no’ would stop you anyway.”

“You know me so well,” Selina purrs with a devilish grin. “As you said earlier, of the two of us, I am the ‘party expert-’”

“I said ‘aficionado’ I think, but go on.”

_… nerd._

“Uh huh. Anyway, _I’m_ the expert. And as such, I know that parties can be a good place to … talk to people. Introduce oneself.” Barbara’s other eyebrow raises. “Maybe even do some casual _flirting_?” 

“... um, ok?” Barbara responds after a moment, clearly confused. “Is this about the ‘wingwoman’ thing? ‘Cause, like I said, I’m down to help, I just-”

“Actually, it’s about … you.” Barbara stiffens slightly and her pace slows; Selina stares at her with concern and briefly reconsiders this whole idea.

_Fuck. Don’t freak out, please? Babs?_

After what feels like an eternity of silence, Barbara finally responds with, “... I see. Um. Kinda random. I thought … so am I _not_ ‘wingwomaning’ you then, or-”

“I’m not talking about _me_ right now, don’t worry about _me_. I just …” Selina sighs. “Never mind.” 

Silence again (aside from the rhythmic patter of sandals and converses flopping against the sidewalk). Selina realizes that she either needs to drop this and change topics or commit - go _all in_ on this potentially disastrous plan.

_“Plan?” What “plan,” Selina? This popped into your head thirty seconds ago._

“... ok, look Babs, straight-up - do you still like Diana?”

Barbara’s head snaps in Selina’s direction - her eyes widen in utter shock, as if Selina just dumped a bucket of ice water on her head.

_Ugh. Dramatic._

“Do I … no, _what_?! No! Why? I mean, it was a crush, a small thing, years ago, I mean, not ‘ _years_ ’ years, but you know, a while ago, or whatever … no, wait, what? Why do you … what? Why?”

 _Dramatic_.

“Ok, that was _a lot_.” Selina chuckles. “Honestly, I saw you looking at her Instagram and-”

Barbara’s cheeks turn bright red and she glares at Selina. “Wow, creep …”

“- _and_ I thought I’d ask, but if you’re really over her then-”

“I’m not …” Barbara groans and puts her face in her hands as she comes to a stop. Selina tries to repress the small smile pulling at her lips.

_Dra. Ma. Tic._

“Ok. Look. I’m already real anxious about the party so this is hardly the time or place to bring this up-”

“Babs-”

“-but you went and brought it up anyway, and we can’t go back now, so …”

Barbara shoves her hands in her pockets and pushes air through her mouth like a grumpy horse; her eyebrows furrow and it’s clear that she’s deep in thought. Selina gives her a few moments to gather the courage to admit her feelings - however, she quickly becomes impatient (partly due to the lingering effects of the wine, partly due to Selina being … Selina), and decides to speed things along.

“... _so_?”

“So, what should I say?!” Barbara desperately responds. “Is she objectively attractive? Yes. Does she seem like a cool person? Yes. Would I like to be friends or … something? Sure, but … Selina I’ve got like eight months of high school left. If it hasn’t happened by now …” Another sigh. The frustration leaves Barbara’s eyes and a simple sadness replaces it. “I just don’t see it happening at all.”

_Oh, shit._

“You _do_ still like her! I knew it,” Selina says with a proud smirk. Barbara doesn’t react. “Hm … you really don’t think she’s vanilla? Even a little?”

Barbara gives Selina a _look_. “You’re annoying. Also it’s not like I’m in _love_ or something, she just … seems cool, or whatever, can we please stop talking about this?”

“Huh.” Selina rests her hands on her hips and arches an eyebrow. “Guess I’m wondering why you kept it a secret. Aren’t we BFFs?”

Barbara rolls her eyes. “That’s rich, considering I don’t usually find out about your boyfriends until, what, a few months post-break-up? If then?”

“I’ve never had a ‘boyfriend,’ Babs-”

“Whatever, your _hook-ups_ or … see, I don’t even know! I never know what’s going on with you anymore, you’re too busy gallivanting around with your _new_ friends, bet you tell them everything-”

“Hey, hey!” Selina closes the gap between them and takes Barbara’s hands in her own. “That’s not fair, I don’t … look, I know we’ve had issues. I know we haven’t been hanging as much, I know there’s been … _weirdness_ here, but what do you think tonight is? I’m trying to fix things!”

“... why?” Barbara’s question is genuine, without snark or bite. Selina suddenly feels like the shittiest friend in the world.

_Real great plan, Selina. It’s working wonders._

Selina shuts her eyes, unable to look at Barbara’s slightly pained expression. “Because …” She recalls old memories of rainy sleepovers and summer pranks and late-night whispers and laughter, _so_ much laughter. “Because … we’re fucking stuck together,” Selina whispers with a smile. “Whether you like it or not.” 

Barbara snorts but her eyes soften and she squeezes Selina’s hands lovingly. “Good save.”

“It’s true!” Selina says adamantly. “And, look, about the whole ‘boys’ thing-”

“It’s fine, Selina, really, if it would make you uncomfort-”

Selina grunts and says, “Trust me. I don’t give it that much thought.” 

Barbara’s face wrinkles into a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Selina drawls, while twirling the belt of her bathrobe like a whip. “If there _had_ been a guy I really cared about, I would’ve told you. There hasn’t been, so. No need for any tear-jerking confessions.”

“Oh,” Barbara responds, clearly still confused. “Ok. But you _have_ mentioned … you’ve told me, I mean, not really any details, but you’ve mentioned some guys-”

“Just hook-ups. Good for a lil’ dancing, a lil’ making out, you know … party things.” Her lips curl into a mischievous grin. “Since we are _party_ bound, tonight could be your chance to engage in such … _things_. Bet Diana’d be down.” 

Barbara snorts again, but that doesn’t keep the red tinge from creeping back onto her cheeks. “Not happening. We don’t even know if she’s gay.”

“ _Everyone’s_ gay, c’mon Babs. I thought you were woke?” 

Barbara shakes her head but chooses to ignore the comment. Instead, she says, “So, you really haven’t liked anyone? Not even any of the guys you’ve … done ‘party things’ with?” 

Selina shrugs. “Most guys suck.”

Barbara’s lips form a sympathetic frown. “That’s kinda depressing.”

_Yep._

“I’m sure they don’t all ‘suck,’ there’s go-”

“Look, tonight is about _fun_ , ok?” Selina interrupts. “Us, together, having fun, possibly getting you a girlfriend, possibly getting me into a secluded closet with Hal Jordan for 10 to 45 minutes. We can examine my deep-seated psychological issues and poor life choices another time.”

Barbara rolls her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just keep moving. Sooner we get there, sooner … I have an anxiety attack. Just kidding. Kinda …”

They continue walking and a comfortable silence soon falls over the pair. Selina, naturally, doesn’t wait too long before ruining it.

“... why not at least talk to her?” 

“ _Selina_!” Barbara groans. “You’re killing me.”

“Relax, talking is _easy_ ,” Selina purrs. “Especially at parties. School’s all formal and frigid and fluorescent … lighting, the lights are fluorescent. There’s fluorescent lights at school.” 

“Yep. Got it.”

“But parties are like … it’s like this _weight_ has been lifted. People are easier, more laid-back, more real. It’s nice.” Selina uses her handy-dandy peripherals to examine Barbara; she’s picking at her nails - a telltale sign of nervousness and uncertainty. 

_Shit. Don’t want that. Gotta find a way to reassure her._

“How about I come with?”

“... huh?”

“To talk to her? I’ll come with. It’s decided.” Selina smiles coyly; Barbara just stares back, open-mouthed, eyes indicating some combination of “confused” and “utterly flabbergasted.”

“You … want-”

“To help, to _wingwoman_ you. How the tables have turned.” Selina wiggles her eyebrows to hopefully coax a laugh out of her friend; it doesn’t work. “I’m kidding, chill, it’ll be casual. Don’t think of it as ‘flirting,’ it’s just … making friends. That’s all. That’s the goal of the night! To make friends.”

Silence. Barbara stares ahead as they walk, expression unreadable. For a moment, Selina worries that Barbara might scream at her. Or storm off in a huff.

_… which would be fair. I’ve been a bit more annoying than usual tonight. Please don’t hate me, Babs. I just wanna help._

Luckily, Barbara doesn’t do either of those things. Instead, her eyes suddenly light up - surprising Selina, to say the least; Barbara meets her friend’s gaze and - much to the raven-haired girl’s delight - her lips curve into a small smile.

“Ok. I’m ok with that!”

“... yeah? You are?”

Barbara nods and her smile grows. “Yeah, I think so. Making friends sounds … yeah. Let’s do it!”

_Selina. You rock._

She cackles and pulls her friend into a tight embrace. “Babs, you beautiful genius, you won’t regret it!” 

Barbara groans in response to Selina’s forceful grip, but her smile doesn’t diminish. “I certainly hope not.”

“You won’t,” Selina says with a grin, draping an arm over Barbara’s shoulders as they walk. “It’ll be great. We’ll talk to her, she’ll talk to you-”

“You’ll talk to Bruce!” 

_What._

Selina stops walking. Now it’s her turn to look confused. “Uh. What?”

Barbara’s smile grows, and a sickeningly devious expression forms on what used to be her naive, nerdy face. “You said we were making friends, right? Bruce and Diana are best friends. Makes sense that we talk to both of them. Sort of like a double date - _oh_ , sorry, right, you said to not think of it as ‘flirting’ …”

Selina scowls at Barbara’s (admittedly witty) barb; she also finds herself in the unusual position of not immediately knowing how to respond. So she simply stares at Barbara with - what she hopes are - deeply suspicious eyes. 

Barbara just keeps smiling. “I mean, it’s only fair that, while I’m talking to Diana - _your_ idea, remember - you keep Bruce company! Don’t worry. I’m sure you two will hit it off. He seems super nice, cool, he definitely doesn’t _suck_.” Selina rolls her eyes. Barbara hooks her arm around Selina’s once again. “Trust me. You won’t regret it.”

_… well played, Babs. Well played._

_Fuck._

* * *

* * *

(Kara’s POV)

Arthur’s house is … big. 

_If you can even call that thing a “house.”_

At several-stories tall and probably-a-few-basketball-courts wide, Arthur’s _mansion_ is at once both spectacular and intimidating. Kara has never seen anything like it.

Clark - while carefully parking his dad’s red pick-up truck on the boulevard adjacent to Arthur’s huge estate - notices Kara’s awe-struck expression out of the corner of his eye; he smiles and says, “Definitely beats the old Kent farm, huh?”

Kara smirks. “Nah. I’m a sucker for that rustic aesthetic. The cows were cute too.” 

“Not too many cows here, I’m afraid.”

“Sucks.” 

Clark finishes parking and sends a quick text to Arthur while he and his cousin make their way across the street.

_And into the lion’s den._

“Here goes nothin’,” Kara mutters, prompting a chuckle from Clark.

After waiting outside for a few (semi-nerve-racking) moments, the massive front door finally swings open, revealing a shirtless, glistening, obnoxiously muscular, golden-haired adonis, clad in yellow and green goldfish-themed swim trunks and holding a lengthy metallic replica of a trident.

_… makes sense._

“Is that Kent?! Is that the K-Man?! HELL YEAH IT IS!”

“Hey Arthu-” Clark is suddenly cut-off by Arthur’s powerful embrace; he swings the six-foot quarterback around like a dainty ballerina. It may or may not be one of the most amusing things Kara’s ever seen.

“Bro, we are fucking SENIORS!” Arthur exclaims while releasing Clark. “Can you believe it?! Seniors!’

Clark chuckles. “Seniors. Also, Arthur, this is Kara, she’s-”

“Yes, the Cuz!” Arthur whips around rapidly and Kara swears his trident almost blinds her in the process. “Bring it in, broseph! Show Arthur the love.”

_Ha! What. This dude’s a trip._

Kara prepares to fist-bump the shirtless-surfer-stereotype, but she is instead (unsurprisingly) pulled into a tight hug. Clark gives her a sympathetic look over Arthur’s broad shoulders; Kara shrugs in response.

“Damn, bro, feel those deltoids!” Arthur playfully pats Kara’s shoulder. “Clark says you’re quite the athlete.”

“I’m alright. Played some basketball at my old school.”

“Varsity!” Clark calls out. “Two national championships! Consecutive!” Kara rolls her eyes.

Arthur whistles. “Damn, alright, we’ll have to play sometime! See how good you really are.”

“I’m down.” A competitive gleam flashes across Kara’s eyes as she adds, “Might kick your butt though.”

Arthur laughs heartily. “YES, I love it! Love that energy. Alright - got the K-Man, got the Cuz, let’s do it folks, let’s head on in! Party startin’ right fuckin’ NOW, SENIOR YEAR BABY! YEAH!” He rushes inside like a cannonball blasting into a pirate ship. 

Kara turns to Clark. “Welp. You ready, _bro_?”

They share a laugh and follow Arthur into his mansion, which is somehow even more glamorous inside than Kara could’ve predicted. The floor is mahogany hardwood and the tall ceiling sports a luminous chandelier. Fancy, probably “abstract” (based on the fact that Kara has absolutely no idea what any of it is supposed to mean) art adorns the walls. And there is an enormous fish tank in the center of the living room - home to adorable seahorses, among other things.

_Can’t even deal with this place. Except those seahorses. I’m into the seahorses._

But Kara doesn’t get to acquaint herself with the cute, aquatic critters, because Arthur waves her and Clark into the kitchen.

“Yo, YO, look who made it!” Arthur drapes his arms around the strapping shoulders of the two Kents, while the group sitting around the kitchen table turns to face them, all smiles. Kara only recognizes a few of them: Oliver, Jimmy (who sheepishly waves at her), Diana and Bruce. After the obligatory introductions conclude (and Kara decides that there is simply no point in trying to remember everyone’s names), Arthur convinces Clark and Oliver to do “senior shots” with him, while Kara wanders over to Bruce and Diana.

“Hey, uh, s’ok if I sit with the ‘cool kids’?”

Bruce shrugs and says, “Sure, let me know when you find some.” Kara snorts - and then blushes - in response. Bruce’s lips curve into a soft smile as he pats the seat next to him.

 _Such a cutie._

As Kara sits down, Diana asks, “Hey Kar, is Lois not coming? I didn’t see her-”

“Nah, she’s out of town,” she responds. “Clark says she’s checking out some colleges with her dad … so, I officially know no one here except you guys.”

“Entirely their loss.” Diana beams at her, and Kara briefly becomes lost in her twinkling, golden eyes.

_… how are they both so hot?! Who’s responsible for this?_

“I thought you met Jimmy and Oliver?” Bruce inquires while sipping red wine.

“Yeah, kinda, we all had lunch a few times.” Kara observes Clark, across the room, downing a shot and subsequently vigorously coughing, while Arthur pats his back and roars with laughter.

_Still can’t handle shots, huh? A boy scout for life._

“You know, Kara,” Diana begins, brushing raven locks behind her ear. “I actually think a certain someone was hoping you’d sit next to _them_.”

Kara looks around, bewildered; with zero tact, she says, “What? Who?”

Bruce chuckles and Diana bites her lip to stifle a laugh. Kara blushes and says, in a hushed voice, “Was that loud? Sorry. Wait, who though?”

Before Diana can respond, Arthur commands the attention of the room by pounding his fist on the kitchen table, shouting, “Friends!” Pound. “Loved ones!” Pound. “Com-”

“Artie, don’t … you’re gonna hurt your hand.” Arthur’s beautiful, fiery-haired companion shakes her head in disapproval and exasperation; she proceeds to examine his hand for injuries which prompts Arthur to struggle against her grip - like a toddler with an overattentive mother.

“Stop, Mera, chill, it’s part of the speech, part of the …” He turns to everyone again, grinning broadly. “Friends! Loved ones! Comrades! Bros! This may be the last gathering ever to be had in this damn fine house. This may be the last night of our lives. Who knows. This may-”

“Does he do this every time?” Kara whispers. Diana rolls her eyes and nods, while Bruce pretends to fall asleep. Kara snorts into her forearm.

“-and while others have come before us, and more will come after, they shall never truly understand the bonds we-”

“Blah, blah, blah - hey, Artie? Can we drink now?” Dinah - Oliver’s flaxen-haired, (evidently) feisty girlfriend - calls out; Arthur quickly becomes uncharacteristically self-conscious.

“Uh, well … I’m really only at the beginning of the speech-”

The whole room groans, loudly.

“People will be here in about 15,” Arthur’s brother (Kara thinks his name might start with an “O”) adds, while rapidly typing on his phone. “Can we speed this along?”

“Alright, alright, look - I’ll skip to the end!” Arthur clears his throat and pauses (for dramatic effect, no doubt). “Folks. Listen. As the great Michael Phelps once said-”

“To senior year!” Mera interrupts, raising her glass.

“To senior year!” Her words are echoed throughout the kitchen, followed by everyone downing their drinks; it’s at this point that Kara realizes she doesn’t actually _have_ anything to drink. 

As if on cue, Clark walks over with a Bud Light Lime. “To ‘here goes nothin’?” he offers with a grin.

Kara takes the beer and smiles. “To ‘here goes nothin’.”

* * *

(Hal’s POV)

“‘Sup Hal, ‘sup, uh, _Spongebob_!” Patrick O’Brian remarks as soon as the duo arrives at Arthur’s house; Kirby High’s resident jokester eyes Barry’s swimsuit with fiendish glee. “Nice trunks. You really belong next-door though … the neighbors have a kiddie pool, you’d fit right in!” Patrick releases a high-pitched cackle as he wanders off.

Barry’s cheeks redden and he sighs. “Yeah, the suit was a mistake … maybe I should head home, change real quick? I don’t have to swim …” 

_Note to self - kick Patrick’s ass sometime. No one makes fun of my Barry … except me, but I’m clever._

“Relax bud, you’re fine.” Hal sympathetically pats his best friend’s shoulder. “Look around - this place is packed with wild, drunk, _definitely_ horny seniors, celebrating their last year of torture - _sorry_ \- 'public education' at Kirby High. They’re here to swim, dance, hook-up, and forget it all by morning, so yeah, I’m pretty sure your swimsuit’s gonna go unnoticed. Nobody’s looking.”

“... _some_ people are looking.” Barry nods in the direction of a group of girls across the room, all blatantly checking out Hal’s abs; the object of their collective desire turns to face them - eyebrow raised - prompting the girls to suddenly become preoccupied with the seahorses in the fish tank.

Hal shrugs. “I mean, yeah, but … it’s _me_.” He winks and Barry rolls his eyes.

“Ok, ok, c’mon loverboy.” Barry moves through the living room - side-stepping stumbling football players (who may have gone a bit overboard in their pre-game rituals) - and Hal follows; they end-up in the kitchen and find an astonishingly large assortment of alcoholic beverages sprawled across the counter.

_Arthur. You glorious madman._

Barry mutters something about “taking it slow” and grabs a can of Mike’s Hard Lemonade; Hal responds by grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels and taking a long swig.

Barry shakes his head in disapproval, yet smiles. “You’re crazy.” 

Hal’s eyes linger on Barry’s lips as he sips his Mike’s Hard at an irritatingly slow pace. 

_Even with Iris gone, still such a buzzkill._

“Nah,” Hal responds. “I prefer: fun-loving, cocksure, maybe a lil’ hotheaded-”

“A little? Pretty generous there, Jordan.”

Hal grins at the familiar drawl of his closest “non-Barry” friend; he turns and sees Oliver approaching from the living room.

“Takes an asshole to know an asshole, Queen,” Hal says with a smirk.

“Touché. Hey - great minds, huh?” Oliver holds up his own bottle of Jack Daniels and gestures between his and Hal’s. “Or … maybe not-so-great? Who knows.”

“We’ll find out tomorrow, right?” Hal quips, prompting a burst of laughter from Oliver (and a disdainful eye roll from Barry, that does not go unnoticed by Hal).

“Where’ve you guys been?” Oliver asks. “You missed Arthur’s ‘pregame ritual thing-’”

“By choice, trust me,” Hal mutters. “I’d literally rather die of alcohol poisoning than sit through another 3-hour-long Arthur Curry speech.” He downs a large gulp of Jack Daniels to accentuate his point.

“Clearly,” Barry mumbles under his breath.

Oliver sniggers in response to Hal’s snide remark. “Yeah, that’s fair. Can’t say you missed much.” He then turns to acknowledge Hal’s noticeably quiet companion; it’s commonly known (to Hal, at least) that the two have never gotten along, what with Oliver being fun and reckless and Barry being an unabashed goody-two-shoes. Still, Ollie makes an effort: “Barry, what’s up? Iris couldn’t make it?”

“Yeah, no, she had a thing, she was busy, so …” Another _slow_ sip. “Uh, how about Dinah? She here?”

“Yeah, she’s out swimming with Helena!” Oliver gestures toward the sliding glass door that leads to the pool. “Actually, I was about to join them, if you guys wanted to come with?”

Hal shrugs and glances at Barry, who is shyly rubbing the back of his neck and (unsurprisingly) nervously glancing at his _swim trunks_.

_I’m about to rip those things off, I swear … wait. Um._

Barry pulls Hal away from his unexpectedly salacious thoughts with - “I’m ok for now, probably hang here for a bit, thanks though!”

“Cool cool, Hal? You in for some pool shenanigans?” Oliver mischievously wiggles his eyebrows.

“Always,” Hal says with a laugh. “Give us a few, we’ll be there!” 

Oliver nods and heads outside; when he’s out of earshot, Hal turns to Barry with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” Barry asks. “You can go if you want, do your ‘shenanigans’ or whatev-”

“Do we need to have the ‘seeing other people’ talk again?”

Barry looks utterly bewildered (much to Hal’s enjoyment). “What?! What do you-”

Hal takes another swig. “I know you don’t ‘vibe’ with Ollie, or whatever, but you need-"

“Ok, that is _not-_ ”

“-you need, Barry, babe, _listen_ \- you need to be okay with me having other friends!” Hal cockily smirks and adds, “You’re still my favorite, don’t worry.”

Barry’s cheeks turn pink and he looks around the empty kitchen to make sure they’re alone (an annoying tick of his that Hal finds oddly endearing); he responds, in a hushed voice: “Ok, that’s not … I don’t, like … obviously you can hang with whoever, you’re an adult, more-or-less, and look, I’m fine with Oliver, he’s fine, I don’t _love_ him, but I don’t … like, if you guys wanna get plastered and go swimming and probably drown or something then-”

Hal takes another, longer swig. “You jealous?”

“What?! No, ridiculous, I-”

Another swig. “Be honest - do you wish you had his swim trunks?”

Barry shakes his head in frustration. “Hilarious. Look, when you-”

“Jealous?”

“- _when_ you guys get together,” Barry continues, face flushed and voice strained. “Things can … things just go bad-”

“That’s not-”

“- _sometimes_ , especially when you’re drinking, which you both _are_ -”

Hal frowns; perhaps it's due to the alcohol, perhaps it's his aggressive nature, perhaps it’s … some other _thing_ (that he currently has zero desire to examine or explore), either way - a fire ignites in Hal’s chest at Barry’s words. “Uh, yeah, it’s a _party_.”

“I get that, just-”

“The hell?”

“-maybe take it easy, is all, don’t-“

“What are you, my mom?”

“No, I … ugh!” Barry throws his unfinished Mike’s Hard in the trash and puts his face in his hands. “Maybe it’s just me.” He looks at Hal with tender eyes. “I don’t know, I … I get worried, or anxious, or … I don’t know. I don’t really do a lot of partying anymore-”

“I noticed,” Hal mutters. For some reason, Barry’s pacifistic attempt to resolve the argument doesn’t douse the angry fire building in Hal’s chest. If anything, it fuels it. “I don’t even know why you came.” Another swig. “Since I’m so ‘dangerous-’”

“I didn’t say you were-”

“Sorry, you said: ‘things go bad.’”

“I didn’t-”

“When I drink with Ollie, ‘things go _bad_.’ Oooooh. Scary stuff, bud.” Hal chugs his Jack Daniels.

“Well, they do sometimes!” Barry exclaims. “What about prom?!”

The fire _erupts_ in an explosion of rage. “Holy shit-”

“I was-”

“This, really?! Again?”

“I was looking-”

“So fucking predictable. Get _over it_!”

“I was looking forward to that night with you, and you, _you_ fucked it up, Hal!” Barry tries to control the volume of his voice - the declaration comes out like a strained whisper. “All I wanted-”

“Please, you were _fine_ ,” Hal snarls. “ _I’m_ the one who got kicked out, don’t act like … no, you were fine, you had _Iris_. Yeah. I didn’t fuck up shit, I heard her at lunch the other day …” He cruelly imitates Iris’ high-pitched voice. “‘My favorite moment ever was with my baby-boy-Barry at Prommie-wommie, we were so cute’ … gimme a break.”

Hal expects rage, but instead it’s sadness and pain that flashes across Barry’s eyes. “Hal, I wanted-”

“You had Iris! You were _fine_. I didn’t … I didn’t …” Hal trails off. The fire dissipates; in its wake is emptiness. And regret. And nausea.

_Fucking indigestion is back … or maybe the booze … fuck._

Hal stares at the ground, unwilling to make eye-contact with his … with Barry. He counts the tiles on the kitchen floor. Silence.

“I’ll … I think I’m gonna head home. Yeah.” Hal hears the pitter-patter of footsteps as Barry walks away; it briefly stops. “Please be safe. Don’t … yeah.” And the pitter-patter resumes, until it’s drowned out by music and laughter emanating from outside.

Once alone, Hal leans against the kitchen table and examines his Jack Daniels bottle - he’s already drunk almost ⅓ of it. 

_Oops. Maybe things do ‘go bad’ …_

Hal wanders to the sink to grab some water. 

_… whatever. He’s got Iris. He’s running home to Iris, what else is new._

Lost in Barry-centric thoughts, Hal doesn’t notice a certain bathrobe-clad beauty enter the kitchen and meander over to the fridge. 

“Hey there,” a silky voice drawls; Hal barely registers that he’s been spoken to.

“‘Sup.”

_“You had Iris! You were fine. I didn’t … I didn’t …” What, Hal? “Didn’t” what, huh? Gonna finish that thought, you self-sabotaging fuck?_

“Jack Daniels, hm?” the woman continues. “An interesting choice-”

“You want it? It’s yours.” Hal leaves the bottle on the counter by the sink and heads outside. 

_“... I didn’t …?” “Didn’t” what? What?! Fuck._

As Hal walks, he starts to feel light-headed - he assumes it’s the alcohol, or the indigestion, or a perverse combination of both. For some reason, he thinks sending a quick text will help.

“ **Hey Im sorry. Im a dick. Have a good night Bar** ”

Hal sits on a sun lounger by the pool and slowly drinks his cup of water. An energetic cacophony surrounds him - loud music is playing, people are talking, singers are singing, dancers are dancing, swimmers are swimming and diving and roughhousing. 

Hal is sitting.

_… I didn't get to be with you._

* * *


	7. The Pool Party, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot tubs. Bathrooms. Assholes. Cupid Shuffles. Enjoy "Part Two"!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for taking so long to update! I've been crazy busy Thankfully, I am officially done with the law school application process and will have plenty of time to update much more frequently over the holidays!
> 
> Also, my girlfriend pointed out to me that Barbara in this fic is essentially a combination of Barbara Gordon and Holly Robinson from the comics, and honestly she's not wrong.
> 
> Content warning: underage drinking; a reference to drug use; some steamy dancing.

* * *

(Barbara’s POV)

“Well, I struck out.” Selina shrugs while returning to Barbara. “Ran into Hal. He totally ignored me. C’est la vie.” She hands Barbara a lemon-flavored La Croix. “Bougie, right? Classic Arthur.”

“Thanks,” Barbara says with a smile. “And if that’s true, then Hal’s an idiot. Good riddance, honestly.”

Selina chuckles and shrugs once again while slipping her hands into her bathrobe pockets; Barbara notes that she seems completely at ease.

_Can’t relate._

Since Selina left Barbara for the kitchen, the nervous redhead has been glued to a single spot on the living room floor. She has spent the past few minutes repeatedly reminding herself to _not_ pull out her phone and use it as a shield from potential social interactions.

_As if there’d be any …_

“How ya feelin’?” Selina asks.

_Excited. Anxious. Terrified. Just all around exploding with nerves. Simultaneously dreading and greatly anticipating our “talk” with Diana (assuming it even happens), a magnificent young woman who I’ve been infatuated with for some time and who is, to put it mildly, so far out of my league that a hypothetical romance between a beautiful princess and a nerdy, glasses-wearing gopher would be appropriately analogous to our, as of yet, entirely non-existent “relationship.”_

“I’m cool.”

“You’re ‘cool’?” Selina deadpans. “Right.”

“Right! Super cool.”

“Uh huh.”

Barbara nods several times (mostly to convince herself).

“Alright, _cool_ kid, let me show you around.” Selina takes Barbara by the hand and leads her through the living room. They pass a group of girls who are gathered in the corner, energetically giggling and whispering about _something_ ; Barbara swears she catches one of them glance derisively in her direction. 

_… are they … ? No. No, they aren’t. That’s stupid. No one cares, everyone’s doing their own thing, it’s fine. It’s not weird. It’s not weird that I’m here right now._

They walk through the kitchen and reach the sliding glass door that leads outside to the pool (and to the massive crowds composed of Barbara’s drunk classmates). 

“Ready?” Selina asks, with one hand on the door and a twinkle of mischief in her eye.

_Absolutely not._

“... you sure it’s too late for _Princess Bride_ at my place?” Barbara offers weakly.

Selina rolls her eyes and pushes the sliding door open. A wave of sound meets them: music, laughter, screams, singing … though it’s all drowned out by Barbara’s heartbeat, which she suddenly becomes keenly aware of. 

_Just breathe. Breathe._

Selina takes Barbara’s hand again and gives it a comforting squeeze; they share an affectionate smile before venturing outside.

_Breathe. You can do this._

And to her surprise (and delight), Barbara finds that she _can_. Perhaps it's the way Selina leads her through the crowds, like a lioness proudly escorting her cub. Perhaps it’s the athletic blonde who bumps into her - apologizing with a cute smile - while she gets out of the pool. Or perhaps it’s the _energy_ pervading the air: it reeks of joy, excitement, cordiality, and _fun_. 

_“You deserve some fun!”_

Barbara decides that she finally agrees with the words of wisdom her best friend has been repeating for years and years.

Selina leads them through the energetic crowds, past the dance floor and pool, and to a vacant circular table that’s _just_ secluded enough for them to hear each other talk.

“You survived, Babs. Color me impressed,” Selina purrs with a grin.

“I, uh, yeah, I did.” Barbara chuckles. “And I … believe it or not, I actually _don’t_ hate it!”

_I think I kinda like it, in fact._

“I’m glad.” Selina leans forward so that her face is inches away from Barbara’s; she lowers her voice and smirks wickedly. “Now, let’s have a little chat about _you-know-who_.”

_… I spoke too soon._

Barbara gulps and tries to curb her nervousness with humor. “You mean … Voldemort?”

“Huh?”

“Voldemort? You Know Who? It’s from Harry Potter, it’s …” Barbara trails off at Selina’s entirely uninterested expression.

“Ok, first: get all that nerd-talk out of your system _now_ ,” the raven-haired girl teases. “The goal is to _charm_ your crush, not put her to sleep.”

Barbara scowls at Selina and sinks into her seat. “I obviously wouldn’t reference HP in front of Diana, she’s super progressive and the author’s compete trash-”

“Great! We’re on the same page.” Selina runs a hand through her hair and continues, “Second: you’re gonna need a game plan for when you two chit-chat.”

Barbara picks at her chipped nails and nervously shuffles her feet. “Right, a plan …”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to help,” Selina adds.”But, knowing you as well as I do - and I _do_ \- you’ll feel more confident if you have a general sense of what to say … or not say.”

“No, I agree, you’re right.” Barbara sighs.

Selina’s wry smirk fades and a look of genuine concern takes its place. “Am I teasing too much? Babs, we don’t have to do this if-”

“No, no, I want to, I …” Barbara groans and puts her face in her hands. “I want to. I’m just nervous.”

“Are you su-”

“Selina.” Barbara fixes her with an intense stare. “I _want_ to talk to her. I’ve wanted to for … an embarrassingly long time.”

Selina smiles. “I know.”

“And, well … I think I’m gonna turn out to be a pretty unsuccessful lesbian if I can’t even find the courage to say two words to a girl I like,” Barbara says with a laugh. “So. What’s the game plan, coach?”

Selina grins and says, “Let’s say we approach her-”

“ _Them_. Approach ‘them.’ Don’t forget our deal,” Barbara responds with a smirk. 

Selina rolls her eyes. “You know, I never _officially_ agreed-”

“Selina. You said yourself that the guys you get with ‘suck’-”

“I said ‘most guys suck’-”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately, you’re straight, so your options are: ‘suck’ and ‘hopefully doesn’t suck,’ and Selina, I can just … I can tell Bruce doesn’t suck. I can just tell.”

Selina raises a thin eyebrow. “ … you can ‘tell’?”

“Well, he helped you at that party-”

“Right, anything else?”

“Um, I … I sorta spy on him and Diana in homeroom when you’re not there,” Barbara responds slowly, while a dopey, self-conscious grin takes shape on her face.

Selina cackles. “Well, I’m _never_ there, so I’m glad you’ve found something to occupy your time with.”

“I just think he seems sweet, but obviously if you’re not interested then-”

“Have you considered that … _he_ may not be interested?” Selina asks, while staring at her feet; there’s a flare of iciness to her tone that Barbara (as emotionally intuitive as she is) definitely picks up on.

_… uh, what? Where’d that come from?_

“Why would he not … Selina, you’re-”

“Whatever.” She shrugs, and seems to be back to normal. “He’s probably not even here. From what I’ve heard, he’s not exactly a social butterfly-”

“Selina?”

Barbara imagines that, if Selina were a cat, every strand of fur on her body would have stood up at the sound of Bruce Wayne’s deep, velvety baritone. The redhead tries to hide her surprised grin.

_Wow. What are the odds._

“Hey! I didn’t know you were here.” He walks over to the duo with a kind - and maybe a little _shy_ \- smile on his face. Selina does not return his friendly gaze; she briefly nods, mutters “‘Sup,” and whips out her phone.

_… again, wow._

In order to compensate for her friend’s rudeness, Barbara musters up the courage to energetically blurt out, “Hi Bruce! How ya liking the festivities?”

_… ‘festivities?’ Why. Just why._

“Hey Barbara,” he responds warmly. “I’m alright, and yourself?”

“Uh, ok! Parties aren’t usually my scene but … I’m here,” she says with a laugh.

Bruce shrugs sympathetically. “They’re not usually mine either.” 

“Selina sorta dragged me, actually.” Barbara nods in the direction of her suddenly antisocial companion. “Apparently an Arthur Curry pool party is a must-see event.”

Bruce chuckles. “It’s … it’s something. Regardless, I’m glad you’re here, both of you, I’m glad …” He trails off as Selina continues to neither respond nor even look in his general direction; she just keeps staring at her phone. Barbara frowns - disappointed, yes, but mostly confused.

_Why is she completely ignoring him? The hell happened between these two?_

For a moment, as his gaze lingers on Selina, Bruce’s smile falters; Barbara thinks he might say something, and - seeing as she’s starting to use her peripherals to subtly glance in his direction - Selina probably thinks so too. Instead, he smiles again (although, in Barbara’s opinion, it seems a bit forced) and says, “Well, good to see you both, and-”

“There you are!”

The image of Diana Prince, in a bikini (curves accentuated, strong arms and muscular thighs visible) and soaking wet (luscious locks draped over her shoulders, bronze skin glistening in the moonlight), will probably be forever ingrained into Barbara’s mind, body and soul.

_Woah. Ok. Ok. Ok. Um. Ok._

“Hey!” The spectacular woman is suddenly by Bruce’s side. “Found you.” She notices Selina and Barbara and smiles brightly at them both.

_I’m dead. RIP Barbara Gordon._

“You did,” Bruce replies. “How was swimming?”

“It was nice … for the most part. Max Lord cornered me while I was leaving the pool.” 

Bruce’s eyes darken defensively. “Hm. Drunk, I’m assuming.”

“Drunk, belligerent, predatory - at least he’s consistent,” she adds, with an uncharacteristically cynical edge to her voice.

_Wow. Fuck. That. Guy._

“What happened? What did he do? Where is he?” Barbara angrily blurts out before she can think better of it.

_… oh. Um._

She blushes furiously and wishes - no, _prays_ \- that she might vanish into thin air. Diana and Bruce, equally bemused at the unexpected outburst, turn to face Barbara, confused smiles painted across their lips. Selina, meanwhile, snorts, chokes on her wine, and tries to hide her subsequent laughter beneath loud coughs.

_Yeah, I definitely needed a “game plan.” Yikes._

But Diana doesn’t seem bothered by Barbara’s lack of tact; if anything, her intrigued smile indicates that she found the redhead’s protectiveness endearing. 

“I _diplomatically_ asked him to leave me alone, and I told him if I saw him bothering anyone else I’d get involved,” Diana states plainly. “He called me a ‘bitch,’ so then I diplomatically tossed him into the pool.”

Bruce chuckles and Barbara gazes at Diana adoringly.

_She’s so cool._

“Bad-ass,” Selina quips, after recovering from her “coughing fit.” She smirks at Barbara knowingly, prompting the redhead to stare intently at her red converses. 

“I thought so,” Diana responds with a smile. “Where’s Clark and the others?” she asks Bruce.

“They’re all in the hot tub, I think. Wanna head over?” Diana nods. The duo starts to leave, but Bruce pauses; after a few moments of apparent contemplation, he turns back to Selina and Barbara. “You’re welcome to join, of course.”

The raven-haired beauty and the nervous redhead exchange _looks_ \- the telepathic kind.

_“This is it. It’s happening.”_

_“I realize that, Selina.”_

_“Nervous?”_

_“That’s putting it mildly.”_

_“You ready to sweep Miss Vanilla off her feet?”_

_“Ha, ha. What’s up with you and Bruce?”_

_“… I can’t answer that.”_

_“Why?”_

_“‘Cause I’m not really Selina. This is all in your head, dummy.”_

_“Oh yeah. Honestly, you sound just like her.”_

_“Thanks, Babs. I’ve been practicing.”_

“I suppose,” Selina responds, pulling Barbara back to reality. She stands up and undoes her belt, allowing her bathrobe to slip off her shoulders, which in turn reveals her (incredibly sexy) black, two-piece bikini. Barbara _swears_ she catches Bruce giving Selina the once-over before quickly looking away; she’s also pretty sure she notices her best friend’s lips curve slightly upwards in response.

_Something’s up with those two. I can feel it._

Selina and Barbara start to head toward the hot tub, with Diana and Bruce following behind.

“The sapphic gods must love ya,” Selina whispers. “Quality time with _her_ in a _hot tub_? Enjoy.” She winks suggestively.

“Quality time with _them_ in a hot tub,” Barbara playfully retorts. “And I’ll ‘enjoy’ if you play nice.” 

The green-eyed vixen rolls her eyes. “Whatever. As if I care.” 

Selina’s tone is aggressively aloof, yet Barbara _thinks_ she notices her flaunting her curves a bit more than usual as she walks in front of Bruce.

* * *

(Rachel’s POV)

“Can’t believe we got lost,” Garfield whines.

Rachel raises an eyebrow. “Can’t believe you’re still complaining about it.” 

“Uh, I can,” Victor responds. “A.) Rich, white people houses all look the same.”

“Dude, we’re so late!”

“And B.) it’s Gar, ‘course he’s complaining.”

“Dude, we’re _late_!” Garfield whines again, as if to prove Victor’s point.

“Dude! Chill. We’re here … probably.”

The trio approaches what they _think_ is Arthur’s place; it’s their fourth or fifth guess, and, for Rachel at least, the elaborate mansions, lawns, hedges, front gates and statues are all starting to blend together.

_Vic’s right. Everything does look the same. It’s like I’m in suburban, capitalist purgatory._

But the loud music and sounds of laughter emanating from _this_ particular mansion certainly seem promising. As they near the front door, Vic sends a quick text while Garfield - as easily excitable as ever - practically starts skipping toward the estate.

_When I finally write Rachel Roth’s Dictionary for Angry, Acerbic Assholes, next to the word “Extra” will literally just be a photo of Gar. Probably doing something stupid._

Rachel smiles in spite of herself while watching her friend bound up the steps to the front door like an energetic puppy; he turns around and catches her smile (before she has the chance to replace it with an icy glare) and _winks_.

_Scratch that - DEFINITELY doing something stupid._

“You’re annoying.”

“And you, Rae Rae …” Garfield impishly wiggles his eyebrows and lowers his voice. “… are _totally_ skinny dipping with me.”

Rachel’s face is suddenly blood red. “What?! No. Absolutely not. I’m not even swimming-”

“You’re not?! It’s a pool party, weirdo.”

“ _You’re_ the weirdo!” Rachel looks away and crosses her arms, in an attempt to appear as stand-offish as possible; none of these actions diminish the vibrant blush on her cheeks. “… so weird … ‘skinny dipping-’”

“Ok, I didn’t … I didn’t mean it like-”

“How did you mean it?” Rachel intended for the question to sound more accusatory, more harsh, and less … genuinely curious. 

“I … um …” Garfield nervously laughs. He scratches the back of his head. Rachel bites her lip while waiting for a response. After a few moments, his emerald eyes meet hers. 

“Don’t make me separate you two,” Victor interrupts. They immediately break eye contact.

“Please separate us,” Rachel mumbles.

The front door opens before Garfield can drive Rachel _completely_ insane. Karen Beecher - a friend of Victor’s since childhood - stands in the doorway, smirking at the motley crew.

“‘Bout time, Vic,” Karen mutters. “Y’all get lost or something?” 

Victor sheepishly grins. “I mean, I wouldn’t say ‘lost-’”

“We for sure did, it for sure _sucked_ , and it’s for sure Vic’s fault. Also, hi Karen!” Garfield waves.

“‘Sup Gar, Rachel.” Karen nods at them both. “Well, hurry up. I’d like to get back to the hot tub sometime before Prom.” Rachel smirks at Karen’s sarcastic remark as the trio wanders into the mansion.

Garfield, as expected, “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” over literally every insignificant thing in the living room. Rachel passes judgement on the place much more quickly (and cavalierly).

_Big, rich house. Shiny chandelier. Good for them. I hate it._

“First party at Arthur’s?” Karen asks.

“Yep. Gar and I aren’t cool,” Rachel monotones with a shrug.

Karen laughs. “Right, ‘cause these preppy white boys are the epitome of ‘cool.’” She nods at Arthur and his brother Orm, who are currently sitting on a couch across the room, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls. 

_Gross._

For a brief moment, Rachel notices that Orm is looking in their direction - specifically, intensely eyeing Victor. She glances over at her friend - obliviously chatting and joking with Karen - and then turns back to Orm, who’s now laughing at one of Arthur’s comments.

_Weird. Whatever._

* * *

(Floyd’s POV) 

In Arthur’s garage, Floyd Lawton tries to drown out the blaring music and shrieks of laughter by taking a long hit from Nanaue Kahale’s bong.

_I hate parties._

“Mate, seventy-five cents is seventy five cents,” George Harkness mutters with a cigarette in his mouth. “I’m supposed to throw away money?”

Nanaue‘s eyes narrow and he turns toward the cheeky Australian. “We almost didn’t get past security ‘cause of your seventy-five cents. Idiot.”

George rolls his eyes. “Bugger off, it was months ago!”

“We could’ve missed regionals-”

“I can’t believe he quit,” Rick Flagg grumbles. Silence falls over the foursome. “A week before registration … he quits.”

Nanaue glances at Rick sympathetically. “Waylon’s a douche.”

“Bloody oath,” George agrees.

“He fucked us … fucked us over _football_.” Rick crushes his empty beer with one hand and tosses it across the room; it narrowly misses the trash can.

_Nice throw, Rick._

Rick shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants and groans. “What the hell are we supposed to-“

“We don’t need Waylon,” Floyd growls. They all turn to him, surprised to hear the often eerily quiet marksman speak. “He was big. Slow. Clumsy. He was a terrible shot. Sure, you could hide behind him, use him as a shield, but beyond that? Useless.”

“Harsh, mate,” George mumbles.

Floyd shrugs. “But true. We’ve got everything we need right here. Rick’s mind. George’s speed. Nanaue’s weed.” The brawny Hawaiian playfully punches Floyd on the shoulder. 

“Cute words,” Rick drawls. “They don’t change the fact that we _need_ a fifth member to qualify.”

“So we’ll find one.” Floyd tosses his own empty beer can across the room; it doesn’t miss its target. “Besides. Who wouldn’t want to play paintball?”

* * *

(Hal’s POV) 

“Wanna get out of here?”

Carol smirks as she turns to see Hal approaching her on the dance floor.

“Kinda forward, Jordan.” She rests her hands on his bare chest as they rhythmically sway together. “See you're still wearing that tacky jacket.” 

“Uh huh. So do you?” he breathes. She bites her lip, and slowly yet intently presses her groin against his.

“What’s the rush?” She gradually moves her hips in sync with his own. Hal closes his eyes and groans softly as he lets the pleasurable friction distract him from the night’s … disappointments. 

_No response. Nothing. That’s fine._

As their grinding intensifies, Hal’s hand wanders from Carol’s lower-back to her rear; he grips her firmly and pulls her taut against him, eliciting a surprised moan. He barely pays attention. 

_No response. He’s probably with Iris …_

Hal growls softly and moves to kiss Carol’s neck; she pulls away slightly.

“Not … here,” she pants, while briefly glancing at a gaggle of her cheerleading cohorts - they are giggling and eyeing the pair from across the dance floor. “Meet me at my car in five, kay?” 

“Embarrassed of me?” he mutters with a sly grin.

Carol, as is her wont with all Hal-related things, promptly rolls her eyes. “Maybe I’m just discreet? You could try it, shirtless.”

Hal finds that Carol’s barb loses much of its sting on account of the fact that she has yet to remove her palms from his bare pectorals. 

“Nah. I’m good.” He winks salaciously while extracting himself from her touch (she frowns slightly at the loss of contact). “See ya in five, Ferris.” And with that, he turns and wanders off the dance floor. 

As he heads past the pool, inside the mansion and toward the front door, Hal’s hands slip into his jacket pockets and his fingers graze the touchscreen of his phone. 

_No response …_

* * *

(Barbara’s POV)

Somehow, Diana Prince is inches away from her. Diana. Inches away. In a hot tub. Wearing a bikini.

_I’m … okay! I’m ok. I’m fine. I’m chill. I’m alright. I’m adequate. I’m out of synonyms._

Luckily for Barbara’s heart rate level, the two haven’t actually spoken yet; Diana has mostly been conversing with Clark and Bruce, while Barbara has been sharing subtle _looks_ with Selina, who somehow ended up across the hot tub between Helena and Dinah. Eventually, Helena heads to the bathroom, creating an awkward vacuum of silence between the two remaining girls. Selina - ever the personification of maturity - abruptly decides to abandon Dinah and swim across the hot tub to her nervous best friend.

“If you don’t say something soon,” Selina quietly drawls, while her red lips curve into a smirk. “I _will_.” Barbara shudders in response.

_Jesus. She’s so … naturally sexy. It’s annoying._

“Look I … I’m taking it slow, ok?” Barbara whispers.

“I’ll say.”

The redhead fidgets nervously and tugs at her swimsuit. “If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

Selina seems to ponder this for a moment while staring at the chatting trio to their right; suddenly, her eyes light up and she flashes Barbara her signature cheshire smile.

_… uh oh. Wait._

A wave of palpable dread washes over Barbara, but her emerald-eyed companion is not to be stopped; she swims away from the bespectacled redhead, past Diana, and, without making eye-contact with Bruce even once, casually slides between him and Clark. “Hey there,” she drawls, while presenting the quarterback with a wicked grin.

Clark, though clearly surprised, smiles courteously in return; Diana raises her eyebrows and tries to exchange looks with Bruce, but her handsome friend is preoccupied with the raven-haired vixen who is suddenly floating in his personal space. 

_… you say you don’t like him, you ignore him all night, you refuse to even look at him, and then you practically sit in his lap while you’re both half-naked in a hot tub for absolutely no reason at all. Selina, you officially have the brain of a passive-aggressive, horny cat._

Though Selina seems to have no qualms with grazing her slender back against Bruce’s broad chest (and butt against his thigh) while simultaneously ignoring him completely, _he_ starts blushing furiously; after regaining his bearings, Bruce gently moves away from her, which prompts Selina’s grin to briefly falter, but only briefly.

_Selina. I. Can’t. Deal. With. You._

“Tell me, Clark,” she soothes. “Where’s the fiance?”

Big, blue eyes widen in confusion. “I … don’t understand, ‘fiance’?”

“She means Lois,” Bruce mutters.

“Huh? But we’re not engaged?” Clark looks between Bruce and Selina, somehow still confused; Barbara can _feel_ Selina resist the urge to roll her eyes from across the hot tub.

_Good luck trying to flirt with the Boy Scout, Selina._

However, Barbara suddenly remember’s the purpose behind her coquettish friend’s flashy attempt at a distraction; she turns to face Diana, who’s somehow still gorgeous even with an irritated look and mild frown painted across her face.

_Why is she …?_

Barbara follows her crush’s pointed gaze to its destination.

_Bruce. She’s staring at Bruce. Who’s not-so-subtly smitten with Selina. Diana likes him. Likes Bruce. A guy. Fuck._

Barbara sighs and mentally chastises herself for having the worst gaydar in existence. She rests her back against the hot tub and languidly sinks into the warm water. 

_Well … we can still be friends … yeah. I’ll just do that. “Hey I think you’re super hot and all-around perfect and kinda want to date you but nevermind how about friends?!”_

Barbara cringes and quietly groans; she seriously considers leaving the party, changing her name, and moving to Gotham City, when the walls of the tub start vibrating. The jacuzzi suddenly blows water against Barbara’s lower back, sending the startled redhead toppling to her right. Into Diana.

_Agdjjaghklfkgk!!!_

Under entirely different circumstances, Barbara would have few, if any, misgivings about coming into physical contact with Diana. In the past, she has often fantasized about doing just that: grazing her fingers over Diana's sculpted thighs; the feeling of her strong arms and assuredly protective, comforting embrace; the smell of her long, black hair, and the softness of her glistening lips. Numerous fantasies have wormed their ways into Barbara’s mind over the years. Unfortunately, “crashing into her like a big, clumsy rock” has never been included among them.

Barbara hurriedly pulls away from Diana’s soft, tan skin. “Sorry, sorry!” she exclaims while sitting up - her face beet red. “I got startled, jeez, I’m so sorry-”

Diana smiles affectionately. “It’s alright, you’re fine.”

“-that was so, ugh, so stupid-”

“It’s okay!”

“-such a _klutz_ , I’m sorry, I didn’t, I’m really sorry-”

Diana rests a reassuring palm on Barbara’s shoulder. “You’re so cute. It’s okay, really!”

_… I’m … cute?! Holy … moly, say something back!_

“Ok! Cool,” Barbara breathes. “Coolio.”

_… wow._

Diana removes her hand after a bit, and Barbara tries to not let her disappointment show. 

_Say. Something. Not. Weird._

“Guess I’m just nervous,” the redhead manages with a half-hearted chuckle. “I don’t usually … this isn’t like … I’m, uh ...” 

She expects Diana to cut her off (something _others_ \- namely, Selina and Harley - are prone to do whenever Barbara stammers like a nervous wreck), but instead the golden-eyed princess politely waits for Barbara to finish her thought, all while maintaining a beautiful yet relaxed smile that, Barbara realizes, is starting to calm her nerves.

“... this is just kinda new to me,” she finally finishes, with a shrug. “Parties. And stuff. But, um, I’ll get used to it! I hope.”

Diana eyes Barbara curiously for a few moments, before slowly nodding in apparent understanding; she briefly glances around the hot tub - her eyes linger on Selina over-dramatically giggling at one of Clark’s comments - before turning to Barbara again, a slight smirk on her lips. “Would you like to hear a secret?”

“Uh … sure, yeah, _yes_!” Barbara’s answer trips over her teeth and stumbles out of her mouth; she mentally chastises herself for being so utterly cringe-worthy. Diana chuckles and scoots closer to the shorter young woman. 

An unexpected aroma wafts in Barbara’s direction that briefly distracts from the thick scent of chlorine emanating from the water. It smells of almond oil, olives, and grapes - a unique combination; it conjures an image to Barbara’s mind of a beautiful, sparkling island, hidden among mist and surrounded by a vast sea. It’s magical. 

_… I think I’m over-analyzing Diana’s perfume._

“What’s, um, what’s the secret?” 

Diana leans forward - and Barbara just _knows_ a blush is creeping onto her cheeks at their close proximity - and says: “You never get used to it.”

Barbara blinks a few times. “To … to what?”

“To _this_.” Diana twirls her hand in a circular motion, gesturing to their surroundings. “After three years, I’m still …” She purses her lips and pauses, brow slightly furrowed; it becomes clear to Barbara that this is a woman who does not speak until she is completely confident in her choice of words. 

_I should really try that …_

After a bit, Diana smiles faintly and continues: “I’m not sure anyone’s completely at ease at a high school party. Not even Mr. Popular.” Her golden eyes shift toward the pool, and Barbara turns just in time to see Arthur Curry leap off of the diving board while dozens cheer and laugh. 

Barbara presents her crush with a shy yet skeptical smile.

“Yes, he’s quite the performer,” Diana says with a laugh. “We all are. Performing, _pretending_ \- that’s how we get through the night. We fake pretty smiles, and laugh at bad jokes, and drink what we’re offered, and dance when we’re supposed to … not to say that it isn’t fun, it is, but … Gods forbid someone say something _real_ , vulnerable, or brave … like you just did.” She smiles at Barbara tenderly. “You’re the bravest one here.”

Barbara is simply enthralled by Diana’s words. So much so that she fails to notice that Selina, Bruce, and Clark have also been listening to her speech.

“Hate to interrupt the monologue, sweetie, but I have to ask,” Selina purrs. “Did you just say ‘Gods?’”

Barbara’s eyes widen in embarrassment. “Selina! That’s none of your business!”

“Did I? Hm.” Diana ponders this for a few moments before chuckling. “I honestly don’t remember. Strange.”

“Very,” Selina teases. Barbara glares at her _suddenly obnoxious_ best friend; in return, she gets a suggestive wink, which only deepens the blush coating Barbara’s cheeks.

“Too much _Game of Thrones_?” Bruce asks, while he and Diana share a smile. “We binged it this summer.”

“Ugh, the ending sucked,” Selina adds with a grunt, before sipping red wine from her glass.

Bruce turns to her, evidently surprised at being acknowledged. “Yeah, it … it did.” He tries to meet her eyes, but Selina’s emerald orbs are directed elsewhere.

_Idiot._

Barbara quietly makes a resolution to never get involved with Selina’s mysterious and melodramatic love life again as she turns to Diana with a grin. “Thank you, for what you said ...”

“Of course!” Diana’s golden eyes glisten as she beams. “I meant it. Honesty takes courage … we could use some more of it here. I’m glad you came tonight.”

Barbara’s stomach drops into her feet. “You … are?”

Diana nods casually yet confidently, as if she didn’t just make Barbara’s entire week with her words. “Besides, you’re a senior. You wouldn’t want to miss out on this. Despite its flaws, there’s nothing quite like an Arthur Curry Pool Party.”

* * *

(Helena’s POV) 

On the stairs that lead to the second floor of Arthur’s sprawling mansion, a drunk member of the swim-team makes a potentially fatal mistake: he tumbles into Helena Bertinelli.

“Get off!” she growls while shoving him away. “Are you fucking blind, dude?” He stares back blankly.

_Fucker is shit-faced._

“Just be careful on your way down …” Helena mutters before continuing her trek upstairs. “Moron,” she adds once he’s out of earshot.

Helena’s tolerance for belligerent, mindless drunks is low at the best of times, but after finding the downstairs bathroom occupied by noisy, inebriated football players (who repeatedly ignored her polite - and a few slightly _less_ polite - requests to pee in privacy), her patience is wearing thinner than usual.

_Next asshole that stands between me and a toilet becomes my toilet. I’ll shit on his face. I’ll do it._

_I’m not being excessive._

Helena finally arrives at the second floor bathroom, only to find it occupied. She groans and rubs the bridge of her nose. She briefly considers kicking the door down and forcibly removing whoever’s inside, but instead, she reminds herself of a few words of wisdom that her father imparted to her years ago:

_“You’re gonna end up in jail, dumbass.”_

Helena grits her teeth yet forces herself to _slowly_ knock on the door. It peeks open slightly, revealing gray eyes hidden beneath a ski mask.

_… the fuck._

“Can I help you?” The mysterious man whispers.

Helena raises an eyebrow - sharp enough to slit throats. “You can get out, dude. I have to pee.”

The door opens fully, revealing the curious figure: a tall man, lanky, wearing a blue jacket and, yes, a _ski mask_. 

“I’m afraid that is not an option.” His voice is eerily calm. Helena’s response isn’t.

“Why the _fuck_ not, dude?”

He shrugs. “I’m investigating. Sorry.” The door closes. Helena growls and all memory of her father’s wisdom is forgotten - she kicks the door open, only to find the strange man bent over by the toilet, going through the trash bin.

“Look, guy,” she tries again, barely holding back her irritation. “I respect the fact that you’re a fucking weirdo. Really. It’s admirable. But if I don’t pee in the next five seconds-”

“Question: what is the dirtiest room in any house?”

Helena is so confused, so utterly _shocked_ , that she forgets to be angry. “... huh?”

He pulls a used tissue out of the trash. “Answer: the bedroom.”

“I really doubt that.”

He briefly glances in her direction, before returning his attention to the tissue. “Most people _think_ it’s the bathroom. Most people are wrong. While we sleep, miniscule skin particles peel off our bodies and land on our bed sheets. Like snakes, we secrete our exoskeletons, only more gradually. It’s practically invisible, but after days, weeks, years, the dead skin starts to gather, turning our beds into bacteria-ridden, festering-”

“Fuck, ok!” Helena exclaims. “I get it. No more beds for me. Can I pee now?” He doesn’t respond. “I’m doing it whether you’re in here or not, guy.”

He disposes of the tissue, but is clearly not finished sorting through the garbage. “Do as you wish. It doesn’t concern me. 95% of urine is water-”

“You know this from experience?” Helena says with a smirk. This gets his attention - they lock eyes. Again, Helena notes that his are gray, an almost … sad color.

For a moment, Helena considers whether she’d rather deal with a possible psycho who wears a ski mask in-doors at a party in September, or a drunk football player.

 _Possible psycho. Easy._

With that decided, the magenta-eyed huntress slowly wanders into the bathroom until she finds herself inches away from the stranger. He averts his eyes, allowing her to remove her bikini bottom in semi-privacy. Helena sits on the toilet and tries to not think about how weird the present situation is.

“Why the mask?” She asks after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “You like the ugliest guy in the world under there?”

His shoulders tense up, but only briefly; Helena frowns and feels something … _close_ to guilt. He speaks before she can take back her words.

“Beauty is … relative. A wilting flower in a lush garden may seem unsightly, but when plucked and disposed of in the trash …” He stops rifling through garbage, having apparently found _something_ of value. “... it is … magnificent.”

Helena, in spite of herself, finds the stranger’s predilection for whispering strangely calming. She is, therefore, understandably caught by surprise when he suddenly speaks with intensity and speed. 

“Do you know what this is?!” He shouts, while abruptly turning to face her. 

“Dude. Still peeing.” 

His eyes widen and he immediately turns away again. “Yes, you are. I am sorry.” While facing the wall, he places an object on the sink - it’s an empty prescription bottle.

“The fuck … you found that?”

“Yes.”

Helena raises an eyebrow at the stranger’s back. “Kind of an invasion of privacy. Going through their trash?”

“It’s not personal. I go through everyone’s trash.”

Helena snorts in amusement; she grabs the bottle and tries to examine it. “The hell are these? ‘Geno-’”

“It’s HGH - a performance enhancer. Drugs.” Silence.

_Oh. Shit. Jesus, Arthur._

“... that’s … fucking wild, this shit can be dangerous right?!”

“Yes. For young people, especially. Very dangerous. Illegal, too.”

Helena stares at the bottle, as uncertainty and dread start to build in her stomach.

_… do I tell Dinah? Or Mera? She could already know. Fuck. I just wanted to fucking pee, man …_

“Ok, okay, look …” Helena stands up, flushes, and pulls her bikini bottoms back on. “This?” She shakes the prescription bottle. “You don’t talk about it. To anyone. Ok?” The stranger is still facing away. “I’m done peeing, also.”

He turns to face her - gray eyes meet magenta orbs.

“I see. You want to protect your friend-”

Helena groans. “No, I don’t … Arthur’s not exactly my ‘friend,’ but he’s a good guy, and he’s close with Dinah, and she’s close with Mera, and it’s a whole thing and … just, let me handle this? Okay, weirdo?” 

For a few moments, the stranger doesn’t respond, though he keeps staring at Helena; she wonders if he is “investigating” _her_ , right then and there.

“Look, is there something … you want something? Is that it? What?!” Her voice starts to sound frantic, and she hates that she’s essentially pleading … hates it so much, that anger starts to build. “What do you want, asshole?! Tell me or-”

“I won’t say a word. I promise.”

Silence falls between them. Once again, in a few words, this mysterious stranger has dissolved Helena’s anger. In its stead, is surprise … and mild appreciation.

_Who is this guy?_

“Thank you … really, uh, dude-”

“Sage. I’m Vic Sage.” He averts his gaze again.

“Helena. Cool to meet you. I guess.” She smiles at him, however slight.

He nods at her, but doesn’t return her gaze. Seconds later, he suddenly and swiftly heads for the bathroom door.

“Hey, Sage!” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. Helena isn’t quite sure what to ask, how to express her muddled, confused thoughts. “I just … why are you doing this for me? I don’t even know you.”

Gray, sad eyes peer into her soul. “… that is the question.”

* * *

(Rachel’s POV)

“... and then I was like: ‘guys, I totally know what we should call ourselves’!” Garfield exclaims, grinning proudly.

To Kara’s credit, she has listened to every word of the emerald-haired jokester’s lengthy story without mocking him, interrupting, or yawning even once. She’s also laughed at a few of his jokes.

_… I think she might be an alien._

“‘How about … Team Garfield!’” Silence. Gar no doubt expected uproarious guffaws from his audience of two. Instead, he receives a perplexed look from Kara, and a deadpan glare from Rachel that would surely impress Morticia Addams. 

Garfield scratches the back of his head and nervously chuckles. “Um … but they all thought that was stupid, so we settled on ‘The Titans.’”

“Huh. Too bad. ‘Team Gar’ has a nice ring to it,” Kara jokes while playfully punching the skinny buffoon on the shoulder.

“Thank you! I’ve been saying this for years.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Rachel monotones.

“Too late! I’m encouraged.” Garfield sticks his tongue out at Rachel, who resists the urge to push him into the nearby pool. “Anyways, good story, right? Funny stuff? What are the critics sayin’?” he asks Kara with misplaced enthusiasm

She blows a blonde strand of hair from her face as she apparently considers the question. “I mean, as far as ‘dodgeball-team-name-origin-stories’ go … it was pretty solid!” Kara chuckles at her joke, but Garfield simply nods slowly in response, clearly hanging onto her every word. She scratches the back of her head and adds: “Uh … it also had a very loose feel, almost improvisational … not that that’s a bad thing, it rea-”

“He makes it up everytime.”

Garfield gapes at Rachel - he looks akin to a wounded puppy. “I do _not_! It’s a true story. Non-fiction!” 

She folds her arms and smirks at her frenemy. “You once said we thought of ‘The Titans’ while we were skydiving off the Rocky Mountains in Colorado.”

“I-”

“And once while we were surfing.”

“We-”

“And once while we were tap-dancing.”

“... ok, that one was a stretch.”

Kara laughs loudly. “Ya’ll are ridiculous. I’m real glad you're here, though. So far you ‘Titans’ are the only people who actually talk to me, aside from my cousin and his friends. I should probably go find him, speaking of which …” She finishes her beer and burps. “‘Scuse me. Talk to you guys soon, kay?”

She fist-bumps Garfield, and he provides a loud burp of his own in response. She chuckles and wanders off, while Rachel rolls her eyes at Garfield’s stupid grin.

_Dumb._

“Yep. She likes me.”

“Or she’s just polite enough to not openly mock you … what do they call it? ‘Southern charm’?”

Garfield snorts. “Kansas ain’t southern.” He runs a hand through his spiky, viridescent hair and smirks at Rachel. “You just can’t accept that someone might _actually_ think I’m cool.”

“The thought does strain credulity,” Rachel snides, while mirroring her friend’s cocky smirk. 

His brow furrows in confusion. “Uh … ‘strain who-now’?”

“It means - ‘it sounds very unlikely.’ As in: the notion that Garfield Logan passed third grade _strains_ _credulity_.”

His thin smirk vanishes and is replaced by a scowl. “Whatever. Cool kids don’t need ‘credulity,’ of ‘strains,’ or 'third grade'!”

“Uh huh.”

“‘Cause I’m cool!” He crosses his arms and puffs out his chest; Rachel thinks he looks like a bratty infant. “Cool, cool, cool, cool, _cool_!”

“Well, you’ve convinced me,” a dry voice mutters.

Garfield’s demeanor completely changes as he turns to face Orm, who is slowly approaching the pair. Clearly embarrassed at having been caught mid-stupidity by a senior (and Arthur Curry’s brother, no less), Garfield shrinks down, nervously chuckles, and shoves his hands into his pockets. Gone is the bravado and care-free exuberance from before; Rachel finds that she misses it … though she’d never admit that outloud.

“Hey dude, what’s up? Great party!” Garfield says with a grin. “Really! Thanks for the invite-”

“‘The … invite’?” Orm’s question goes unanswered, as Rachel and Garfield share unsure glances. The latter nervously chuckles again, but the former, less inclined to see the good in people, allows her neutral mask to devolve into a frown.

_… something’s up … Gar has no idea …_

Rachel’s heart swells with sympathy for her friend as he attempts a response. “Well, um, Vic, Victor invited us, technically, uh, I’m sorry if, uh …” He glances at Rachel again. “Was that … not ok?”

“Huh. I see.” Orm’s expression is unreadable. His obsidian eyes linger on Garfield for some time, before moving to Rachel. She raises an eyebrow - not in the least bit intimidated. 

_I survived my father. You don’t scare me, swim-team-guy._

Silence. Quite suddenly, his lips curve into a polite smile.

“Ok. Well. I’m glad you’ve both had some fun. But - and this isn’t your fault, you didn’t know - but this party was really meant for the senior class and a … select few close friends of Arthur and myself. I told Vic that _he_ could come, but …” A shrug. “Nothing personal.”

_… I hate that I’m always right._

Rachel immediately turns to Garfield, only to find his face expressionless. He nods slowly a few times, before saying: “Do you … want us to leave?” 

“Yo, yo!” A booming voice bursts through the tension as Victor joins his friends, carrying a six-pack of Miller Lite. “So Rae, I know you hate beer, but I figured we could … oh, ‘sup.” Victor acknowledges Orm with a curt nod, before turning back to his friends. “I figured Gar and I can split these, and we can probably pawn wine off of one of these drunk fools … also, I talked to Arthur, and he’s letting me DJ! So we should hit up the dance floor soon, play some ‘Cupid Shuffle,’ right Gar?”

“Actually, we’re … we’re gonna head out,” Garfield states plainly, though his eyes are glued to the tiles on the floor.

“What?” Victor’s bewildered gaze darts between Garfield and Rachel. “We just got here, what do-”

“Well, they weren’t _really_ supposed to be here to begin with, were they Vic?” Orm’s voice is still polite, though his eyes betray the anger boiling within. 

Under different conditions, Rachel would be quietly imagining gruesome ways to kill this arrogant asshole, but right now, her concern for Garfield easily outweighs her rage. She desperately tries to meet his eyes, to gauge what he’s feeling, but his face - for the first time _ever_ \- is seemingly devoid of emotion.

Victor, meanwhile, looks stunned. “... are you … are you fucking serious?”

Orm replies, calmly, “I told you that we were full, it’s not my-”

“Full?! You could fit half of Metropolis in your dumb-ass mansion and there’d still be room!” 

“I _live_ here,” Orm responds through gritted teeth (less calmly than before). “It’s _my_ party. I don’t need to defend my actions, if I tell you we’re full, you don’t bring a few plus-ones-”

“What is your problem with _them_ , exactly?” Victor marches closer to Orm; they’re suddenly inches apart from one another. Victor’s voice continues to rise in volume and intensity. Rachel is sure party-goers are starting to stare. “My friends don’t meet some bullshit standard of your’s? So you embarrass them, ruin their nights … for what?! Your pride?!”

“You disrespected-”

“Then punish _me_ , kick me out!” 

As Victor and Orm face-off, and a crowd starts to gather, almost no one notices Garfield slip away. But Rachel does.

“Gar, Gar wait up!” 

She rushes after him, dodging curious onlookers and stumbling drunks; a tiny fellow with a comically large hat almost falls over as she pushes past him. Rachel runs through the kitchen and into the living room - now empty - where she catches up to her friend.

“Gar, please. Will you talk to me? Where are you going?”

He slowly stops walking and shrugs; he doesn’t turn to face Rachel as he says, “I’m leaving. Duh.”

“He’s an asshole, Garfield. He’s rich and popular and he gets whatever he wants, and this time he wanted us to not be here. Whatever.”

“It’s not just ‘whatever’ though-”

“So he thinks we’re losers, who cares? I don’t.”

“... that makes one of us.” Garfield slowly turns around; his emerald eyes glisten with the beginnings of tears as he weakly smiles. “It’s not just _him_ , Rae. It’s everyone, they all … you were right earlier. I’m not very _cool_ , am I?”

Rachel’s heart, as cold as it is, breaks ever slightly at his words. “Gar …” 

She doesn’t know what to say, how to apologize. How to express … _everything_. 

_Kory would know … Kory would be brave …_

But Rachel chooses the coward’s move - she stays silent. It’s awkward. After a few moments, she turns and looks through the windows facing the pool. Victor has marched off in a huff, and Arthur is now arguing with Orm, while the crowd looks on.

“I’m sorry,” Garfield begins, unexpectedly. “For bringing you down with me. My loserness is infectious, huh?” He chuckles quietly and sniffles. “I mean, I can’t think of why else he’d want you to leave …” His eyes meet her’s for a moment. “You’re … _you_ , you’re Rachel, dude. Like, you …” He chuckles again, as his eyes drift away from her’s. “... you can do a lot better than me, Rae.”

_… you idiot. That’s not true._

Rachel, overcome with emotion at Garfield’s vulnerability, acts before she can think better of it. Her slender arm awkwardly jerks forward and rests a hand on his shoulder. Clearly surprised, Garfield’s eyes rapidly dart between Rachel’s hand and her glowing orbs, though he does not pull away.

For a few moments, they both say nothing.

_He’s so … bony._

“R-Rae …?” Garfield’s voice is breathy, almost a whisper. A slight tremble runs through Rachel’s arm.

_Gar …_

For the second time that night, the pair are interrupted before something can be said that might … _complicate_ things. This time, they are interrupted by music. 

“ _New Cupid, new Cupid …_ ” 

Though slightly muffled by the walls of Arthur’s grand mansion, the familiar beat and lyrics are enough to bring a smile to Garfield’s face. 

“It’s … it’s ‘Cupid Shuffle’ …” Garfield says, while wiping tears from his eyes and chuckling. “Must be Vic …”

As if on cue, a booming voice calls out over the speakers: “Yo, Garfield! This one’s for you. MOPED, BABY!”

Garfield’s chuckle turns into a full-on laugh, and Rachel’s subsequent smile could rival even Kory’s most saccharine grin.

“Dude, Vic, he really …” Garfield’s fang-like teeth become visible as his head falls back; he releases a high-pitched giggle. “He’s something …”

“He cares for you,” Rachel breathes.

_So do I._

A tingling sensation spreads through Rachel’s hand, prompting her to realize that it is _still_ placed on Garfield’s shoulder. Embarrassed, she rapidly retracts her arm and averts her eyes. 

“Sorry …”

“Huh?” Garfield’s eyebrow raises, quizzically. “You don’t have to apol-”

“Gar?” Rachel asks abruptly. She fiddles with the hem of her purple skirt as she waits for a response.

“Yeah, Rae?”

_Gar. Do you …_

She wants to meet his gaze. Kory would want her to meet his gaze. 

She doesn’t. Instead, she closes her eyes and blurts out her request: “Do you want to dance or something?”

_Coward._

As she mentally berates herself, a warm hand softly takes hold of her own.

“Dude. Of course I do.”

* * *


	8. The Pool Party, the Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing. Sex. A wooden bat.
> 
> So much to do, there's this or there's that ... all distractions from the little man in the hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here's the final "Pool Party" installment!
> 
> Real quick-note for Diana/Bruce fans: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and Diana and Bruce's relationship/friendship is definitely an important aspect of what's ahead! However, full disclosure - Bruce and Diana will be pursuing/getting with other characters as well in this fic; if that bothers you, I totally understand (I definitely get upset when my OTP's are split-up or don't end up together, for example), and I just wanted to be honest about that aspect of this story!
> 
> Also, I changed the rating to "M" to be safe, and I added "Underage" to the archive warnings, since some of the characters who engage in sexual intimacy are seventeen; an important note: no characters under the age of seventeen will ever be involved in sex scenes.
> 
> Content warning: a visceral and tense description of a panic attack; a sexual encounter.

* * *

(Skeets’ POV)

“Sorry, who are you?”

_… ah, jeez._

Michael Jon Carter pulls an appalled expression; he silently gapes at the two women for a few moments - probably hoping that they were kidding, that they’ll retract their words of disinterest right away. They don’t.

_Uh, ok, OK! Damage control time …_

“He’s, he’s Michael!” Skeets quickly replies. “Michael Jon Carter! You probably know him from-”

“ _Bushels of Gold_ , of course!” Michael finally interjects. “Hilarious sitcom? Early 2000’s? Nickelodeon? Riiiiingin’ any bells?”

The two young women - who Skeets recalls are named Mary and Darla - simply stare back at the duo, confused.

“Never heard of it,” Darla says with a shrug.

“Well, it ran for one season, but it was a critical darling!” Skeets nods his head exuberantly while he speaks.

“Yeah, it was ahead of its time, America wasn’t ready, you know how it goes …” Michael runs fingers through his golden hair. “Anyway, I played the lead - that’s a showbiz term, means ‘main character’ - and it really changed my life, ya know? I mean, how many people can say they spent their tenth birthday on a soundstage in Hollywood, recording live for an audience of thousands, am I right?” Michael chortles loudly at his comment. Skeets, after catching Michael’s eye, also laughs. The girls don’t. 

_… ooooookie. Tough crowd._

“Well, we just figured you might know the show, which is ... why we brought it up,” Skeets says through a sheepish grin.

“... kay. Cool. So do you guys go to Kirby, or …?” Mary asks, her arms folded, her eyebrow raised.

“Yep, just moved here! Guess we’re east coasters now.” Michael bumps his elbow against Skeets’ shoulder. “Don’t know how you guys deal with this temp though, it’s basically freezing, right Skeetie? But maybe we’re just used to that beach weather-”

“Right, so we’re gonna go dance,” Darla mutters while hooking her arm under Mary’s and pulling them both away. “But, um, cool to meet you guys.” They rush off rapidly; this doesn’t stop Michael from calling out a loud goodbye.

“Alright ladies, see ya around! Check out _Bushels of Gold_ tonight! The first episode’s on YouTube! Top shelf quality! Really!”

They don’t respond. Skeets sighs quietly. The night has … not gone well, though Skeets know’s that Michael will probably never admit that.

“They were weird, right?” Michael asks his younger brother. “Like, weird energy?”

_Yep. They hated us._

“Not … sure what you mean, Mike?”

Michael scratches his scalp and frowns slightly. “Don’t know … just weird. People are weird here, huh? Can’t believe no one’s seen _Bushels of Gold_ …”

_… we could try … NOT bringing it up … with everyone … we meet …_

But Skeets would never reveal these thoughts to his brother. Others - including their own father - have tried using blunt words with Michael in the past. It has never gone well.

Michael continues. “Surely someone, _someone_ here must’ve seen-”

“I have!” A lanky boy seemingly appears out of thin air, causing Michael to spill his beer and Skeets to choke on his Shirley Temple. “Name’s Irwin Schwab, and I’m a big fan! BIG fan!”

As Michael gingerly pats his coughing brother’s back, his eyes light up at Irwin’s words. “Did you say … so you’ve seen it? You’ve watched-”

“Sure, sure, seen it all! Know it all! The gold glasses, the blue costume …” He suddenly narrows his uncanny eyes at Skeets. “... aren’t you usually a robot?”

Skeets, having recovered from his coughing fit, gulps loudly and looks to Michael for support, who unfortunately seems to be equally confused by Irwin’s behavior.

“I don’t … I wasn’t on the show … and I don’t think Mike wore a ‘blue costume’ either-”

“Well, you’d know,” Irwin continues, quickly pacing in front of the pair while monologuing. “I hear the 25th century has great schools. 52! So how you likin’ Kirby High, hm?”

Michael and Skeets glance at one another, unsure of how to respond to this … _strange_ person. Luckily (or perhaps, unfortunately), he doesn’t let them.

“Speaking of ‘Kirby,’” Irwin suddenly interrupts. “How about that Jack Kirby, eh? One of the greats! Sure wish he was writing this fic, then maybe we’d all actually be in _character_! Who cares about high school, right?! 52!” 

Michael and Skeets are, to put it mildly, entirely bewildered. While Irwin rambles on, Michael whispers, “Dance floor?”

“Affirmative,” Skeets responds in a heartbeat. The duo sneaks away to join the gathering mass of “Cupid Shufflers.” 

“So, the only ‘fan’ I have at this school is a total freak, great …” Michael groans as they walk.

Meanwhile, Irwin calls out a warning, that Skeets barely hears over the music and Michael’s complaining: “Beware of plot twists, they’ll get you every time! Little man in a hat, little man in a hat! 52!”

* * *

(Barbara’s POV)

“Do you want to dance?”

_No. She didn’t say that. You misheard, Barbara._

“I think I’m going to, if you’d like to join?”

_… ok, she definitely DID say that. Yikes. Dance?! Dance. Uh._

_Yikes._

“Wow, thank you, but … yeah, ‘dancing’ is … I don’t really …” Barbara trails off, quite awkwardly, and hopes that just this _once_ Diana will have the good sense to interrupt her. She doesn’t (which is unsurprising to Barbara, seeing as Diana seems to have the exquisite manners of someone raised by royalty). Instead, she continues to listen intently, with an understanding smile on her face.

_Why do you have to be so nice. Why._

“... I’m bad at it, I guess?” Barbara finishes with a pathetic chuckle.

Diana’s lips form a quirky smile, but her brow furrows. “I’m … not sure I understand, how are you-”

“Just really awkward, y’know … limbs everywhere and arms … flailing. Lots of flailing. I’m really stiff, too.” Barbara rubs the back of her neck and tries to come up with more excuses. “I tend to bump into people and … things. Just everything. Also, I have no rhythm … so …”

“Sounds delightful,” Diana remarks with a wry grin, causing Barbara to blush brightly.

“Y-yeah, you’re saying that _now_ , but just wait …” Barbara tries to distract from her newly red-tinted cheeks with a (incredibly forced) cough. “... it’s bad.” 

Diana’s brow furrows again, as she seems to ponder Barbara’s words. “Interesting. I’ve always seen dance as a form of self-expression. A bit like … peeling a layer off of your outer shell, exposing what’s beneath to the world, and saying: _‘this_ is a part of me, this _is_ me, and I love it.’ Does that make sense? I don’t mean to offend, really, but … I’m not sure you can be ‘bad’ at dancing anymore than you can be ‘bad’ at being, well, _you_.”

_Wow. So thoughtful._

_And just so wrong about this._

“Trust me, I’m bad at it.” 

Diana nods understandingly. “Gotcha. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me!” She smiles brightly before turning to Clark and Bruce and slowly rising out of the water. Barbara has always considered herself to be agnostic, yet she now realizes that only an omnipotent trickster god would be sadistic enough to place her in such close proximity to Diana’s muscular, glistening thighs. 

_Kill me._

Across the hot tub, Selina and Bruce are continuing to conspicuously ignore each other, while Clark is conversing with a cute blonde girl who arrived a little bit ago.

“I’m going to dance, if anyone’s interested?” Diana asks the group. Barbara catches her crush’s gaze lingering on Bruce, and in an instant, the bubbling warmth building in the nervous redhead’s soul turns icy cold.

_She was … just being nice, Barbara. Don’t be stupid. She likes … Bruce. She likes guys. Probably, or … I don’t know! Ugh. I hate this._

_She was just being nice. Yeah. Probably._

A familiar, smoky voice suddenly cuts through Barbara’s anxiety-inducing inner monologue.

“As much as I’d like to relive seventh grade sock hops, I’ll pass,” Selina drawls through a thin smirk. Though the other four don’t seem to pay much mind to the raven-haired vixen’s latest sardonic comment, Barbara notices the slight _edge_ to her words. 

_… what is it with her tonight? She’s ignored Bruce, been rude to Diana … this was all her idea to begin with! Ugh. Selina. Ever the mystery. Ever exhausting._

Diana, clearly unperturbed by Selina’s … _Selina-ness_ , simply shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“I love sock hops!” Clark jovially chirps. “Fun fact: I came in third place at Smallville’s Super Swanky Square Dance Competition back in the day!” His eyes glaze over nostalgically, so he doesn’t notice Diana biting her lip to stifle a giggle. “Granted, Lana had to give me lessons for _weeks_ beforehand-”

“I’m sorry, ‘Smallville’s _what_ ’?” Diana asks, while locking eyes with the (now-smirking) blonde to Clark’s left, and barely holding back laughter. “How have we never heard about this?!”

Clark grins sheepishly and pushes his glasses further onto his nose. “Uh, it didn’t come up organically, I guess-”

“That’s rich,” the blonde snarks. “It certainly ‘came up organically’ all the time back in Kansas.” 

“Well, now you’ve gotta demonstrate,” Bruce adds through a kindhearted smirk. 

Clark clears his throat. “You know, Bruce … that’s a good idea, but, um, I’m not sure ‘Cupid Shuffle’ is, uh, _conducive_ , to a square dancing environment-”

“While I’d hate to miss my cuz totally embarrass himself, I promised Jimmy he could give me a tour, or something,” the blonde casually remarks.

Diana, Bruce and Clark share _knowing_ looks and smiles. “Well, that sounds fun!” Diana adds after a moment.

The blonde looks mildly bewildered, but then shrugs. “Yeah, I s’pose! Anyway, ya’ll have a good time. Clark - don’t break anything.”

While Bruce and Diana burst into laughter, and Clark blushes, Barbara seeks Selina’s gaze. However, her best friend’s eyes are fixed on her phone, which she’s casually fiddling with. Barbara frowns, a bit worried.

_“Hey, are you ok?”_

_“Hey, not the ‘real Selina’-”_

_“I know, I know, this is in my head … I need advice though.”_

_“All ears, sweetie.”_

_“So, Diana wants to dance-”_

_“Go dance."_

_“Wait, hold on! I’m not very comfortable-”_

_“Go. Dance.”_

_“Wait! I’m not … I’m not really a ‘dancer’-”_

_“Babs. Go. Dance.”_

_“But-”_

_“[imaginary face slap]”_

_“.....................”_

_“...”_

_“... ok, fair, I needed that.”_

_“Babs, sweetie - don’t overthink this. She asked you to dance, not audition for_ A Chorus Line _._ _Now go have some fun with your lady!”_

_“Ok, ok, you’re right … thank you.”_

_“Anytime, darling.”_

_“... also, there’s no way the real Selina know’s anything about musicals. Bringing up_ A Chorus Line _really broke the immersion.”_

_“Sorry for not actually existing.”_

_“Yeah, yeah, yeah ... ok, but … but what if Diana isn’t into girls? What if she likes Bruce-”_

As if on cue, the handsome, brooding gentleman adds: “I’ll have to take a raincheck as well, I think.” He presents Diana with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Told Alfred we could watch Masterpiece Theatre.” Clark laughs, and Diana nods in understanding - though her smile seems a bit sad.

_“Welp. That solved that problem. Now you can ‘swoop in,’ as toxic men say.”_

_“Jesus, ‘fake Selina’ …”_

Bruce departs with a wave, and though (real) Selina does not turn her head toward him to acknowledge his departure, Barbara notices her observing him with her sneaky peripherals. 

_“Wow. ‘Real-life-me’ really needs to communicate, get all that baggage off her chest, ya know?”_

_“Tell me about it.”_

As Clark stands and gathers his things, and Selina mentions something about “taking a quick business call” before abruptly departing with only a wink to Barbara (who simply gapes back at her in disbelief and confusion), Diana turns to her new friend with a hopeful smile.

“No pressure at all, but if you’d like to join us-”

_“Now or never.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Life or death!”_

_“... that’s a little dramatic-”_

_“Babs!”_

“I would!” Barbara shouts, while shooting up to her feet like a rapidly growing plant. “I would, yes, I, ok … yes,” she stutters out. 

_Why am I like this._

Diana just laughs. “Ok then! Looking forward to it.”

Barbara smiles.

_Yeah. I kinda am too._

* * *

(Hal’s POV)

“Your car’s, uh … little cramped.”

Carol scoffs while taking off her shirt. “What, should I put the top down? Make some more room for _your majesty_?”

Hal shrugs. “Maybe. Why buy a convertible if not for the luxury of spacious car sex?” 

Carol rolls her eyes while moving to straddle her sharp-tongued booty call. As she looks down at him, her eyes half-lidded, he suddenly grips her waist firmly, pulling her closer while grinding against her core. She releases a noticeable gasp.

“Nevermind. Keep the top closed. Forgot how noisy you are.” Hal flashes her a smirk while continuing to girate his hips beneath her’s.

She responds with a smirk of her own. “Maybe I’m just a good actor? Maybe this is practice, I was thinking of trying out for the sho-” Hal’s lips meet the pulse of Carol’s neck, and she interrupts herself with a loud moan. She grips his auburn hair tightly while he kisses and nips at her throat. She starts to meet his gyrating hips with her own. They grind together, in sync; the music emanating from Arthur’s mansion is eventually drowned out by Carol’s gasps, her moans, her pleas and sighs. Hal’s eyes are shut tight, and he lets his mind wander. 

_… no response._

He kisses down her chest, in-between her breasts.

_“You fucked it up, Hal!”_

He kisses each nipple, prompting her to pull harder on his hair.

_“You had Iris!”_

He roughly kneads her rear, while kissing and nipping at her breasts.

_“I didn’t …”_

She pulls his head back and meets his lips with her own.

_… I didn’t get to be with you._

They’re soft. Warm. He can see only dark.

_… no response._

And then, a buzzing sound. A vibration. Coming from Hal’s pants.

His eyes flash open.

“Hold up, hold up,” he quickly mutters while pulling away from Carol.

“What, what is it?” she breathes through swollen lips.

“I just …” Hal scrambles to retrieve his phone from his pocket. 

“… are you serious?” The irritation in Carol’s voice is evident - and understandable - but Hal is a million miles away. As he grasps his phone, he can feel his heart gallop at a swift pace; each _thump_ sends tremors through his chest, makes his stomach do flips, sends blood rushing through his veins. 

It’s the most excitement he’s felt all evening - over a _phone_ , over a _text_. Most of all, over _who_ it could be from. Over what it could mean.

He turns on the screen and sees … a notification from Instagram. 

**_iris_westofeden posted for the first time in a while. Be the first to write a comment!_ **

Hal’s galloping heart trips, stumbles, and lands flat on its face. 

_… of course it’s her._

Nevertheless, he ignores the sharp pangs of disappointment cutting through his insides and clicks on the notification, only to find something much worse: two familiar faces. A pair of lovers, cuddling on a bed. Content. All smiles.

“ **Look who surprised me with a cute night-in! @barryal13 #bestbf #fridaynight #movienight** ”

Hal’s grip on his phone tightens. He stares at Barry’s digital face - at his freckled cheeks, his shy smile - for so long that his vision starts to blur. 

“Hey … is everything ok?” Carol softly lays her hand on Hal’s chest; he barely registers her words.

Water begins to fill his eyes; he tells himself that it’s because he hasn’t blinked in what feels like minutes. He hasn’t been able to tear his eyes from those _smiles_. Those porcelain, perfect smiles.

_Perfect. Perfect together …_

“Hal? Talk to me.”

The tears start to blur everything: his phone, his hand, his trembling fingers, his emerald ring, their smiling faces … the images all contort and combine, evolving into an amorphous blob of misery and pain. And anger.

_… fuck them. Fuck them and their smiles._

“Hal ...?”

He shuts the screen off. Allows the phone to slip through his fingers. And closes his eyes again.

He decides that he’s had quite enough of Barry and Iris’ perfect little faces - more than enough. Besides, his tear-filled eyes were starting to play tricks on him. For a moment, as his hand fiercely gripped the phone, he almost thought he saw his emerald ring glow. 

* * *

(Barbara’s POV)

Rowdy football stars chanting like a cult. Couples making out while sensuously grinding. Volleyball players shooting icy glares in her direction. 

_This was a mistake._

Without Selina to guide her, navigating the bustling crowds of the dance floor proves … _challenging_ for Barbara. 

_And stressful. And scary. And shitty. Hey, Selina? Get off your stupid “business call” and come to my stupid rescue. Thanks._

Still, Diana’s tendency to check-in with Barbara - to occasionally turn her head and smile reassuringly as they walk - has mostly made the experience bearable.

_I’d follow her into battle. Is that cheesy? It’s cheesy._

_Whatever. I would._

The trio eventually reaches the center of the dance floor, where they find Arthur Curry, surrounded by a gaggle of Barbara’s classmates who, she quickly realizes, are _way_ beyond her social paygrade. 

There’s Mera - Arthur’s glamorous and intimidating paramour; Dinah - who left the hot tub for the dance floor a bit before Barbara, Clark, and Diana followed suit; Oliver - Dinah’s dashing boyfriend of _many_ years; John Stewart and Shayera Hol - a relatively low-key and down-to-earth couple, at least when compared to their colorful companions; and Helena - a roguish, quick-tempered wild card who is inexplicably close with Dinah ( _and_ was Barbara’s first crush back in elementary school! A quick tangent: one day, when Barbara was in 4th grade, Tobias Whale, a physically imposing 6th grader, stole her lunch and piggishly ate it in front of her; the brute would soon regret this, as Helena, having observed the encounter, decided to confront him. _He_ soon sported a broken nose, while Barbara sported a lopsided grin as butterflies gathered in her stomach; unfortunately, the fluffy feelings soon turned sour, when Helena decided that Tobias hadn’t quite learned his lesson yet. After a few more minutes of violent beating, Barbara _now_ sported a shocked frown, while Tobias sported three broken ribs, a broken arm, broken toes, broken self-esteem, and yes, still, a broken nose. Helena went to juvy, Tobias’ family moved to Blüdhaven, and Barbara started reading copious amounts of sapphic fanfiction about nerdy girls and their sexy rescuers). 

Noticeably absent from the group is Orm, though that’s unsurprising; Barbara observed him storming off earlier in the evening after the conspicuous altercation between him and Victor.

“K-Man?! K-Man and Di? THE DREAM TEAM!” Arthur pulls Diana and Clark into a tight group hug. “The squad! The trinity … wait, where’s Brucie-boy? He leave early? Figures.”

Diana smiles sympathetically. “I’m sure it wasn’t personal, Arthur. You know Bruce, he’s not one for-”

“Socializing?” Dinah snarks good-naturedly. Diana shoots her a _look_ , but doesn’t dispute Dinah’s words.

“He said to give you a big ol’ hug!” Clark grins broadly while patting his absurdly muscular friend on the shoulder.

Arthur presents Clark with a devilish smirk in response. “Well, whattya waiting for?!” In an instant, he grapples Clark and lifts him into the air, while simultaneously spinning them both around. “SHOW ME THE LOVE, K-MAN! Dance with me!”

Diana rolls her eyes while the others laugh, whistle and applaud. Mera is less amused. 

“Artie, we talked about this! You can’t just go around picking people up!”

Arthur, after shooting his lover an apologetic grin, gently places Clark back on his feet; the quarterback just shrugs in response to the whole experience. As the song comes to a close, Arthur shouts across the dance floor: “Yo V-dog! I’m done with ‘Cupid Shuffle’ bro, this shit’s for kids. Play some rockin’ tunes yo!”

“Ok _yo_ , sounds good _yo_ , get right on it _yo dog yo yo bro yo_!” Victor calls back from behind the DJ booth; his impression of Arthur is spot on, and the entire dance floor erupts into laughter. Even Barbara chuckles, despite her ever-tingling nerves.

While standing among the “Kirby High elite,” Barbara can’t shake the feeling that she’s … out of her element. She knows what she _should_ do, what Selina would want her to do: introduce herself to Diana’s friends, make an impression, say _anything_ , do _anything_ \- other than awkwardly stand to the side with her hands jammed in her pockets.

She almost musters up the courage to, at the very least, try to joke about Arthur’s antics with Diana, who’s standing only a foot or so away from her. 

_Say something cute. Or funny! You were talking with her for the past hour, why is it so hard now?!_

Barbara is _this_ close to striking up a conversation with her crush - or so she tells herself - when Victor decides to play the “Cha Cha Slide” (a song everyone, aside from Barbara, seems to be familiar with). The crowd erupts into an uproarious combination of laughter, hollering, and groans.

Among the groaners is Arthur. “Bro, this is even worse! You can’t rock out to this middle school crap …” 

His whining dies down however as Mera takes hold of his hand and pulls him toward her. “Stop complaining and dance with me.”

Lines start forming in front of and behind Barbara as the crowds of drunken students clumsily prepare for the dance. Barbara takes her place between Diana and some green-haired kid she doesn’t recognize.

_Ok. Here we go. Dancing. This’ll be … easy, should I leave? I should leave. Fun seeing everyone, g’night! It’s my bedtime. Gotta go. Bye!_

A hand softly brushes against Barbara’s wrist; it’s Diana, trying to get her attention. “Hey. How ya doing?”

Barbara tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a squeal from a frightened pig. “You know, I’m good, it’s … _dancing_ , so … yeah. Dancing …”

“Do you know ‘Cha Cha Slide’?” Diana asks. “The moves are in the song.”

Through the cacophony of music, laughter and clapping, Barbara can barely hear Diana speak. “Sorry, what? I didn’t-”

She raises her voice: “The dance moves, they’re in the ...” Diana pauses as the “lyrics” (such as they are) begin. “Here, take my hand!” 

_… “take my” … surely I’m hallucinating._

Apparently not, as Diana slips her fingers between Barbara’s, and the redhead’s heart explodes.

_… yep. Definitely a hallucination._

The lyrics continue: “ _One hop this time!_ ”

Diana lightly jumps into the air; Barbara follows suit, though her jump is delayed, earning a beautiful laugh from Diana. 

“ _Right foot, let’s stomp …_ ”

Diana stomps said foot.

“ _Left foot, let’s stomp …_ ”

She stomps the other.

“Oh!” Barbara calls out. “So it’s like … directions? Like, you follow the song’s …”

Diana nods her head while smiling widely.

“ _Cha cha, real smooth …_ ”

Some of Barbara’s fellow classmates seem to have a … _unique_ approach to this portion of the dance; the green-haired boy to Barbara’s right, for example, starts haphazardly break-dancing, causing his companion (a pasty-faced, violet-haired, goth-looking type) to groan and roll her eyes. 

Diana, meanwhile, simply shuffles a few steps to the back, before shuffling a few steps to the front, moving her hips languidly the whole time. Barbara catches herself staring and rapidly averts her eyes; though the dance move seems simple enough, Diana could make anything look simultaneously graceful and sensual.

They go on like that for some time - dancing together, Barbara mimicking Diana’s movements (to the best of her ability), until she feels reasonably comfortable and no longer needs to have her hand held, literally (not that she minded).

That is, until: “ _Reverse, reverse!_ ”

Barbara attempts a spin, but achieves a pathetic tumble; she loses her footing, slips, and would have violently crashed into the floor if not for Diana’s quick reflexes and considerable strength. She catches the clumsy redhead in a soft embrace, her arms tucked beneath her shoulders. 

Barbara’s breath hitches in her throat as she gazes up at her beautiful rescuer - her radiant smile, her golden eyes, her glistening bronze skin, her … lips.

_Wow, just … her everything …_

“Aww, cute.” The moment of bliss is ruined by a grating voice that pierces the air (made only louder by the fact that the song starts to come to a close). After Diana pulls Barbara to her feet, they both turn to face Barbara Ann Minerva - volleyball superstar and high school supervillain. Most of Kirby High refers to her as Minerva - though Barbara Gordon has sometimes spitefully thought of her as “the 2.1 GPA Barbara.” This private insult may occasionally bring some satisfaction to the redhead, but it doesn’t change the fact that Minerva is more popular, more attractive … 

_… and a master of casual cruelty._

Minerva continues: “Is she your girlfriend, Diana? Or is this just … _community service_?” 

_Case in point._

Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), Barbara is long past being phased by bullying; she does what she always did in middle school when faced with similarly unkind remarks: she rolls her eyes, takes out her phone, and waits for Minerva to wander off. However, she … doesn’t; she _stays_. Additionally, Barbara notes that Minerva seems … a bit _off_. Instead of a malicious smile painted across her lips, she is frowning - almost scowling. Her arms are crossed, her lower lip is slightly trembling, her fists are clenched tightly; and, most interestingly, her focus is not directed on Barbara, but on Diana, who is, in turn, staring right back.

“She’s my _friend_ , Minerva.” Diana’s composure remains stoic, strong; however, the color of her voice has darkened somewhat, betraying her true feelings - _anger_ , _frustration_ , _hurt_ , or so Barbara theorizes. “And she’s done nothing to deserve your misplaced ire. I don’t want her spoken to like that.”

“‘Misplaced ire,’ oh you’re _so_ fancy, Diana,” Minerva hisses while slinking forward, until she is only inches away from Barbara’s crush. 

Diana’s face flushes, her iris’ dilate … for a moment, Barbara thinks she looks ready for a _fight_.

“I … I said I don’t want-”

“I heard you, uh huh.” Minerva’s scowl diminishes for a moment - her eyes even seem to soften. She whispers: “But what _do_ you want?” Diana’s eyes widen, but she says nothing.

Silence. They stare each other down. Diana’s fingers twitch, prompting her to squeeze her hands into fists. Her mouth opens as if to speak, but then shuts just as quickly. After a few moments, Minerva’s scowl returns.

“Whatever,” she mutters with a grunt. “Enjoy your ‘friend.’” 

And with that, Minerva departs, vanishing in a blur of yellow; Diana stares daggers into the back of her leopard-print cardigan as she wanders off.

A new song is playing now - “Shut Up and Dance.” Unfortunately, Barbara and Diana are decidedly doing more of the former than the latter.

“Everything ok?” Clark asks while walking over to the pair. Barbara smiles weakly and nods, but Diana remains … distant. Her eyebrows furrowed, the edges of her lips curled downwards, her gaze pointed in the direction that Minerva departed. “Di? You ok?”

“I’m sorry, I have to …” She finally turns to face Clark. “I’ll be right back.” Her eyes shift to Barbara and soften. “Promise.” She marches off before Barbara can even respond.

_Oh no, she’s upset … and it’s my fault. If I wasn’t here, if I wasn’t dancing with her …_

“Please don’t take this as an insult,” Clark says sweetly. “I kinda saw … I mean, I don’t know what Minerva said, exactly, but … anyways. The thing about Diana is: when she cares, she gets involved. ‘Course, she cares about a _lot_ of things, so she’s involved pretty much always.” He chuckles, coaxing a small smile out of Barbara. “But most of all, she cares about her friends. And this right now, her ‘getting involved’ … it’s ‘cause you’re her friend, too.”

_… really …? But we only just …_

Barbara turns to Clark, confused - surely he didn’t mean it; surely he was just being nice. But there’s no malice in his light blue eyes, only warmth. 

“... and mine, too, by the way!” he adds with an awkward chuckle, causing Barbara’s smile to widen in amusement. “I mean, not that you asked … or that you’d even _want_ to be, I’m clearly a total dork-”

“Yeah, spot on analysis. Ok, BYE RANDO!” 

_That voice …_

Before Barbara can even begin to turn and face this newcomer, she feels lithe arms wrap around her waist from behind and pull her into a crushingly tight embrace.

“Hi Babsie!” Harley shouts into her ear. “Did ya miss us?” 

Clark politely smiles and nods before returning to his friends, while Barbara extracts herself from Harley’s grip.

“Wait, what?” Barbara mutters. “What are you guys-”

“Remember my ‘business call’?” Selina suddenly appears, with Pamela by her side. “Voila!”

“It’s us. We’re here. Huzzah,” Pamela monotones.

Barbara takes note of the fact that both Harley and Pamela look rather … unkempt; smudged makeup, hair in mild disarray, an inside out t-shirt (in Harley’s case) … 

“Oh, cool! I honestly didn’t think you’d come-”

“Oh, we _came_. Repeeeeatedly.” Harley giggles maniacally while wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s neck.

Barbara coughs loudly while Selina wrinkles her nose and says, “Harls, you know I never say this, but … maybe TMI?” She looks to Pamela for support, but she just shrugs.

“I mean, like … we _did_.”

Harley beams at her. “Mmhm. Tons.”

She cackles again, Pamela smirks, and this time Selina laughs too. Barbara would like to join in their antics - she actually sort of would for once - but her mind is on Diana.

_I’m … her friend. She cares about me … she went after Minerva for me. That’s … wow._

“How did things go with Miss Vanilla?” Selina teases while leaning an elbow on Barbara’s shoulder. “Where is she, anyway?”

“She left … but things were good, for a while. We danced, we-”

“You danced?!” Harley gasps melodramatically. “Frickin’ _gay_ , I love it! Where is she? When’s the wedding?!”

“She, she left, she … got upset. Minerva - from homeroom, remem-”

Selina raises an eyebrow defensively. “Yeah, she’s a bitch. Did she say something to you?”

Barbara sighs. “I mean, yeah, just your generic cruelty, maybe a tinge of homophobia, but Diana got all-”

“What?!” All three women shout simultaneously. 

“I’ll kill her,” Selina hisses.

Pamela nods. “We’ll help.”

“Let’s get her.” Harley retrieves a massive wooden bat from literal thin air.

“Woah, ok, _no_! Hold on!” Barbara splutters, her eyes rapidly darting between the three women. “How about no ‘killing,’ no ‘getting,’ and no ‘bats,’ like, why did you even bring … nevermind, I just … I want to see if Diana’s ok. That’s all.” 

After a bit, Selina shrugs. “Then, what’s stopping you? Go _see_. We’ll be here, cheering you crazy kids on.” She winks at her best friend. “My advice has been pretty killer so far, hasn’t it?”

Barbara nods - if not for Selina’s urging, she wouldn’t have even come tonight.

And so, while her friends dance and prance about, carefree as ever, Barbara channels her worries, and fears, and nerve-tingling desires, into action: she walks off the dance floor and follows Diana.

_We’re friends, afterall … least I can do is check on her._

Barbara returns to Arthur’s mansion; she enters the kitchen, walks through the living room (now empty - save for a tiny man in a large hat, currently admiring the seahorses), and stops when she hears familiar voices emerging from the bathroom.

“... I just don’t get it. She wasn’t bothering you, there was no-”

“Maybe she was?”

“-reason … what?! How?! Minerva, we were dancing-”

“Maybe _that’s_ what bothered me?”

_It’s Diana! They’re arguing … about me …_

A part of Barbara knows that she should return to her friends, leave the women to discuss in privacy; however, seeing as _she_ is the topic of discussion … she can’t help but move closer to the bathroom door.

“... you’re drunk,” Diana says, matter-of-factly.

Minerva snorts. “Well-spotted, Di.”

“It’s no excuse to be so cruel, why can’t you-”

“ _Why_ do you even care? Who is she to you?”

“I told you, she’s a friend. We started talk-”

“‘A friend’ ...?”

“-king tonight … yes, a friend.”

“Like you and Bruce? How you’re _friends_?”

_… what._

“I … he doesn’t ...” Diana falters. “... he has nothing to do with this …” 

“I noticed he left early. Bet you were just _heartbroken_ … so you used poor lil’ Barbara as a distraction-”

“You’re _wrong_ , Minerva.” Diana’s voice suddenly sports a fierce, commanding quality. “I would never … Bruce and I ended things a long time ago. And Barbara, she’s a kind soul, who deserves to be treated with _kindness_ , with care. I don’t use people. I’m not like you-”

“Wow, the perfect princess can cut deep when she wants to …” Minerva bites the words out with venom.

“You haven’t spoken to me in _weeks_!” Diana desperately responds; Minerva is silent, clearly taken aback by Diana’s tone, her vulnerability. “I texted you, repeatedly, you never … I missed you. And now, _tonight_ \- what is this?! What do you want-mmph!”

Diana is cut-off, by something.

Barbara’s curiosity gets the better of her - she leans in closer, tries to see through the crack in the door … 

_Oh._

She immediately pulls away. She backs up, almost trips over the carpet … she tries to shift her eyes to _anything_ else in the room - the chandelier, the seahorse tank … anything that might distract from the image ingrained into her mind:

_Kissing. They were kissing. Minerva kissed her. And Diana, she …_

Barbara doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to admit that Diana was kissing Minerva back, fervently. That her hands were gripping her slim waist, while Minerva’s talons pulled along Diana’s thighs. That she moaned softly as Minerva seemed to bite her lip.

_Selina. You were wrong._

Barbara reaches out, as if to grasp onto something, or someone, for support, but she is alone - the living room is empty. The music and laughter from outside are all that she hears, though a louder, more determined sound begins to drown out the rest: a rapid thumping, emanating from her chest.

_No, not … now._

Barbara makes a break for the front door, bumping into a pair of strangers as they come down from the stairs. Barbara doesn’t apologize - she barely acknowledges their existence. She barely remembers to breathe.

The cool air provides little relief, only a tingling sensation across Barbara’s arms. She feels numb, her movements involuntary, each step forward taken by her _feet_ , but not by _her_. She is disattached from her body, from her surroundings, from everything.

Her feet stop moving at some point; it’s unclear where she is … the grass, the streetlights, the cars passing by - all a blur, as if a glossy sheen was just placed over the world around her. What she _is_ aware of is that persistent tingling sensation, rushing down her arms, heading toward her hands, causing her fingers to tremble. Her chest is still thumping, quick and hard. Each _thump_ seems to send the tingles through her body with a renewed vigor; they rush down her back, into her legs, causing her knees to wobble and buckle.

Air rushes past her face as she falls. 

“I got you.” 

Barbara is gently placed on the ground by a pair of lithe yet firm arms. For her, there is no sensation but the ever-present tingles … 

“Are you ok? Can you tell me what you need?”

… no sound that could drown out the thumps from her chest … 

“You can get through this, I know you can. I’m right here.”

… no vision that could pierce the glossy sheen that covers her world … 

“Will you breathe with me? Is that ok?”

_Breathe._

Barbara sucks in air rapidly, causing the rapid thumping to increase in speed, making her feel light-headed … 

“Let’s breathe together, ok? I’m right here. Is it ok if I touch you?”

Barbara nods. Calloused palms lightly take hold of her hands, as if to confirm the stranger’s words, as if to remind Barbara that she is not alone.

“Let’s breathe together five times, ok? Slowly. I’ll count to three: 1, 2 ...”

Barbara holds on to each count, holds on to the stranger’s voice - calm, steadfast, understanding. The stranger counts to three before breathing in, while Barbara follows suit. Together, they slowly release their breaths, before repeating this four more times.

“That was really good. Ok. Do you feel like you can talk?”

“Y-yes …” Barbara speaks, surprising herself.

The stranger’s face begins to break through the glossy sheen; her blonde hair is the first thing Barbara notices. It cascades down to her shoulders. She recognizes her, she thinks … 

“Ok, good. Would you like me to go get someone, or find you some wa-”

“No, please, just … stay,” Barbara breathes.

“I will. I’m right here.” Through the blurry haze around her, Barbara can just make out the blonde’s calming, sincere smile.

* * *

  
(???'s POV)

The little man in the hat stays to the side.

The little man in the hat is very patient.

The little man in the hat is always watching.

_And they have no idea._

The little man in the hat smiles.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you don't know who Irwin Schwab is, look up "Ambush Bug," he's the coolest!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a review, love to hear your thoughts :)


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